How I got my soundcard to work:
(1) Notice a rapid clicking sound during playback
(2) Reinstall the drivers, to no effect
(3) Switch to the onboard soundcard
(4) Find the clicks are still there, but with more background noise, and a lower recording level
(5) Attempt to buy a new soundcard over the net, to find the vendor's website is down
(6) Buy a new soundcard from a shop
(7) After installing it, find the same problems as the onboard card
(8) Put the old card back in, to find the clicks gone. And then back again.
(9) Reinstall the drivers again.
(10) Realise the problem is a noisy video capture card.
(11) Take out the video card, and try to remember what you wanted to do with the soundcard.
(11a) In the meantime, write a song, meet six men online, fail completely to get off with any of them, meet a seventh by accident and arrange a date with him at the weekend.
H...Y *3
There are times when I seem to be permanantly ravenous. There are other times when I'm just desperate for sex all the time. Right now, it's both. I'm hungry and horny.
My mind is capable of other things. Four out of the five backing tracks for my upcoming stage debut are now complete. I've fixed the soundcard problems on both my computers. And I've resumed copying music cassettes to CD. Oh, and the gym I'm building in the basement is almost ready to use.
The songfight board is moving to http://www.dumbrella.com/bb/. I still don't plan to re-enter than community till (say) the start of November. I'm missing regular contact with Nick, but I promised myself I wouldn't contact him for a week. He's enormously busy, and doesn't need the destractions I can bring - music and friendship.
I kept my doctor's appointment yesterday, just in case the current respite from depression ends. I've got a prescription for something called Citalopram - I'll know in a few days whether I'll need it. At the moment though, I'm happy, hungry and horny.
My mind is capable of other things. Four out of the five backing tracks for my upcoming stage debut are now complete. I've fixed the soundcard problems on both my computers. And I've resumed copying music cassettes to CD. Oh, and the gym I'm building in the basement is almost ready to use.
The songfight board is moving to http://www.dumbrella.com/bb/. I still don't plan to re-enter than community till (say) the start of November. I'm missing regular contact with Nick, but I promised myself I wouldn't contact him for a week. He's enormously busy, and doesn't need the destractions I can bring - music and friendship.
I kept my doctor's appointment yesterday, just in case the current respite from depression ends. I've got a prescription for something called Citalopram - I'll know in a few days whether I'll need it. At the moment though, I'm happy, hungry and horny.
Emotion
I don't know about anyone else, but when I feel an emotion, I understand superficially that I feel other emotions at different times, but I don't 'grok' it.
When I'm happy, the sadness of an hour before seems faintly baffling. When I miss a friend, it seems unconvincing when I tell myself that I won't always feel this way.
The transition from hurt to comfort that often comes after an hour of crying always takes me by surprise, as does the sudden sadness when a familliar object reminds me that good times are gone forever.
When I'm happy, the sadness of an hour before seems faintly baffling. When I miss a friend, it seems unconvincing when I tell myself that I won't always feel this way.
The transition from hurt to comfort that often comes after an hour of crying always takes me by surprise, as does the sudden sadness when a familliar object reminds me that good times are gone forever.
Better
I'm actually quite happy today.
Two days ago I found myself opening up to four seperate friends - Christine A, Gareth E, Lee S and Mark S2 - in series in one evening. Then yesterday with John M. It was all amazingly tearful, and exhausting, but at the end it felt like some blockage had been released.
Then last night a special email from D. That's twice he's let me down gently from my own rollercoastering emotions about him. This little personal recovery process isn't over yet, but after being stalled for months, it's finally moving.
So now I can actually concentrate on things, somewhat. Getting a decent soundcard for the portable, writing songs, jumping through cretinous hoops for the job centre, resuming work on the basement gym, political events...and maybe even finding someone who can care about me as I care about him.
Two days ago I found myself opening up to four seperate friends - Christine A, Gareth E, Lee S and Mark S2 - in series in one evening. Then yesterday with John M. It was all amazingly tearful, and exhausting, but at the end it felt like some blockage had been released.
Then last night a special email from D. That's twice he's let me down gently from my own rollercoastering emotions about him. This little personal recovery process isn't over yet, but after being stalled for months, it's finally moving.
So now I can actually concentrate on things, somewhat. Getting a decent soundcard for the portable, writing songs, jumping through cretinous hoops for the job centre, resuming work on the basement gym, political events...and maybe even finding someone who can care about me as I care about him.
Less down
Less ill and less depressed today.
After two days of messing around with maths, I've got five working softknee compressor settings on Audition. If you don't know what that means, it means I can take music I've composed and make the quiet bits louder, the buried instruments clearer, and the whole sound richer.
There's a Marxist Forum tonight, which I nominally organised, and will probably end up chairing. I'll try to record it.
Tomorrow I should go into the university, to try to discreetly find out what the hell is happening about my old job.
After two days of messing around with maths, I've got five working softknee compressor settings on Audition. If you don't know what that means, it means I can take music I've composed and make the quiet bits louder, the buried instruments clearer, and the whole sound richer.
There's a Marxist Forum tonight, which I nominally organised, and will probably end up chairing. I'll try to record it.
Tomorrow I should go into the university, to try to discreetly find out what the hell is happening about my old job.
Down
I'm ill, depressed and worried about Nick, who is ill and depressed.
I'm trying to create a decent softknee amplitude compression algorithm, to use in Audition. I've got some that sound reasonable, but none that sound great.
I've started to keep an audio diary, using the dictaphone. The idea is to record thoughts, feelings and ideas as they happen, instead of summerising them afterwards in the blog. These recordings are more raw and less considered than the blog entries - I've cried on more than one of them.
There's plenty to do - transfer my cassettes to CD, work on the backing tapes for UKSF, resume work on the gym - but it's difficult to get motivated. It might help if I got into a sleeping patten that didn't involve sleeping at 5 and waking at 12.
I'm trying to create a decent softknee amplitude compression algorithm, to use in Audition. I've got some that sound reasonable, but none that sound great.
I've started to keep an audio diary, using the dictaphone. The idea is to record thoughts, feelings and ideas as they happen, instead of summerising them afterwards in the blog. These recordings are more raw and less considered than the blog entries - I've cried on more than one of them.
There's plenty to do - transfer my cassettes to CD, work on the backing tapes for UKSF, resume work on the gym - but it's difficult to get motivated. It might help if I got into a sleeping patten that didn't involve sleeping at 5 and waking at 12.
One More Song
Well, I managed to throw together some lyrics and a backing track. The result is called 'One More'. I couldn't sing it terribly well for the recording, possibly because I was recovering from some mild food poisoning. These are the lyrics, though I expect to change them for the eventual final version:
VERSE 1:
One more morning
After the night before
One more nameless face
That leaves without a trace
I never want to go
Each time I say it's the last, but
I always go anyway, and I
Always find a reason to stay
CHORUS:
Look into the eyes of the
Man in the mirror
Try to read his mind but the
Eyes are blind
Look into the face of the
Man in the picture
Try to see his soul but the
Eyes are cold
VERSE 2:
One more time, and
This time I hope it's for real
Do you like girls or boys?
Do you like lots of noise?
If I could only sleepI might dream of love
One more night, one more day
Can't go on this way
VERSE 1:
One more morning
After the night before
One more nameless face
That leaves without a trace
I never want to go
Each time I say it's the last, but
I always go anyway, and I
Always find a reason to stay
CHORUS:
Look into the eyes of the
Man in the mirror
Try to read his mind but the
Eyes are blind
Look into the face of the
Man in the picture
Try to see his soul but the
Eyes are cold
VERSE 2:
One more time, and
This time I hope it's for real
Do you like girls or boys?
Do you like lots of noise?
If I could only sleepI might dream of love
One more night, one more day
Can't go on this way
:-(
Oh great. I've eaten something that seriously doesn't like me, Nick is depressed and angry, and I've got some meaningless beaurocratic hoops to jump through for the job centre. Lots of little things to do, but all I want to do is get some rhyming couplets written and recorded.
Up, down, and left of centre
This morning I dragged myself out of bed to go to a 'solidarity event' in Southampton with the Fire Brigades Union. All four of us in the car had a different version of what we were going to - it turned out that a single member of the FBU is a member of the BNP, and is standing for a position of power within the union.
Most of the FBU are against this, and we three carloads of people from Portsmouth were there to add numbers to the picketing of the Southampton headquarters, demanding that the fascist be excluded. Of course, the leaders of the FBU did not exclude him, and neither did they endorse him.
As I sat drinking tea with Gareth E and Donna S, Gareth said he thought going was a complete waste of time. I think it's better to build solidarity by turning up to pointless events than to risk alienating potential allies by staying away.
God politics is boring, national and local.
I missed an important political meeting tonight, simply because I forgot. People have been reminding me about it for a week, but I got engrossed in work on the 'rhyme' project. The Portsmouth branch of RESPECT was holding a seminar, open to the public, to put forward it's views on asylum and immigration.
More politics. I wish I could escape from it. I sometimes wish I didn't have the decency to get involved. No, not really.
There another mouse in the room - it looks larger than the other one. I've plugged in the ultrasound pest repellant.
Something else has happened which makes me feel guilty, but I can't talk about it here until I've discussed it with the person it concerns.
My feelings are so sensitive. Last nignt's IRC chat with Nick bouyed me up, now a mouse and a small mistake make me want to cry. Talking with Gareth was great, but a complication in the rhyme algorithm makes me despair.
Most of the FBU are against this, and we three carloads of people from Portsmouth were there to add numbers to the picketing of the Southampton headquarters, demanding that the fascist be excluded. Of course, the leaders of the FBU did not exclude him, and neither did they endorse him.
As I sat drinking tea with Gareth E and Donna S, Gareth said he thought going was a complete waste of time. I think it's better to build solidarity by turning up to pointless events than to risk alienating potential allies by staying away.
God politics is boring, national and local.
I missed an important political meeting tonight, simply because I forgot. People have been reminding me about it for a week, but I got engrossed in work on the 'rhyme' project. The Portsmouth branch of RESPECT was holding a seminar, open to the public, to put forward it's views on asylum and immigration.
More politics. I wish I could escape from it. I sometimes wish I didn't have the decency to get involved. No, not really.
There another mouse in the room - it looks larger than the other one. I've plugged in the ultrasound pest repellant.
Something else has happened which makes me feel guilty, but I can't talk about it here until I've discussed it with the person it concerns.
My feelings are so sensitive. Last nignt's IRC chat with Nick bouyed me up, now a mouse and a small mistake make me want to cry. Talking with Gareth was great, but a complication in the rhyme algorithm makes me despair.
Singe rhymes with Orange!
I think I've come up with an simpler algorithm for the rhyming dictionary. Without going into details, it looks like this:
(1) Accept a word to be rhymed from the user.
(2) Identify the final vowel of the word, and any consonants that come after it. That this segment matches the final segment of a word under comparison is the minimum criterion for rhyming.
Two - /t o/
Say - /s ei/
Give - /g i v/
Point - /p oi n t/
(3) Create a list of words that share the same final segment, taking into account any differences which have been set to ignore. So, assume word strees is being ignored:
So these words rhyme:
Pain /p ei n/
Gain /g ei n/
Slain /s l ei n/
Pentane /p e n t ei n/
Insane /i n s ei n/
But if the destinction between /m/ and /n/ is ignored, these words are allowed:
Same /s ei m/
Game /g ei m/
Aim /ei m/
Nickname /n i k n ei m/
(4) Sort the resulting list into order of how many phonemes match for each word.
/p l ei n/ has the minimum 2 matches with /p ei n/, as has /f o n t ei n, but /b l ei n/ has three. If the difference between /l/ and /r/ is being ignored, then /g r ei n/ also has 3.
The main problem with this algorithm is that sometimes a phoneme is skipped over when rhyming two words, and this algorithm can't cope with that. Porridge (/p o r i dZ/) almost rhymes with Orange (/o r i n dZ/). Similarly, Review (/r i v iu/) with Renfrew (/r e n f r iu/). I don't know whether this is important.
(1) Accept a word to be rhymed from the user.
(2) Identify the final vowel of the word, and any consonants that come after it. That this segment matches the final segment of a word under comparison is the minimum criterion for rhyming.
Two - /t o/
Say - /s ei/
Give - /g i v/
Point - /p oi n t/
(3) Create a list of words that share the same final segment, taking into account any differences which have been set to ignore. So, assume word strees is being ignored:
So these words rhyme:
Pain /p ei n/
Gain /g ei n/
Slain /s l ei n/
Pentane /p e n t ei n/
Insane /i n s ei n/
But if the destinction between /m/ and /n/ is ignored, these words are allowed:
Same /s ei m/
Game /g ei m/
Aim /ei m/
Nickname /n i k n ei m/
(4) Sort the resulting list into order of how many phonemes match for each word.
/p l ei n/ has the minimum 2 matches with /p ei n/, as has /f o n t ei n, but /b l ei n/ has three. If the difference between /l/ and /r/ is being ignored, then /g r ei n/ also has 3.
The main problem with this algorithm is that sometimes a phoneme is skipped over when rhyming two words, and this algorithm can't cope with that. Porridge (/p o r i dZ/) almost rhymes with Orange (/o r i n dZ/). Similarly, Review (/r i v iu/) with Renfrew (/r e n f r iu/). I don't know whether this is important.
Not a good day
The £60 has been stolen. I know where it happened, and how, but by the time I realised, it was half an hour later and I was on the other side of town.
I realised when I tried to pay cash for a dictaphone - an olympus VN240 - which I was led to believe could upload what it recorded to a PC. It can't. That ability belongs to the VN240PC which, of course, is not available in the local stores.
So, I'm down £110, and not terribly happy.
Tomorrow I've been roped in to show solidarity with firefighters who are picketing a collegue who is standing in an election for the BNP. And in the evening is a major meeting for RESPECT on asylum and immigration.
I just want to lie down and forget about all this for a while.
I realised when I tried to pay cash for a dictaphone - an olympus VN240 - which I was led to believe could upload what it recorded to a PC. It can't. That ability belongs to the VN240PC which, of course, is not available in the local stores.
So, I'm down £110, and not terribly happy.
Tomorrow I've been roped in to show solidarity with firefighters who are picketing a collegue who is standing in an election for the BNP. And in the evening is a major meeting for RESPECT on asylum and immigration.
I just want to lie down and forget about all this for a while.
What rhymes with 'Orange'?
I really should write about my first day of paid work in months, but it was on the one hand so complex, and on the other so tedious, that I don't have the will.
However, I've been working on an algorithm for a rhyming dictionary. One that works the way songwriters work - allowing for loosening or tightening of the rules for what constitutes a rhyme.
Take the word 'Game'. There's plenty of strict rhymes for it: Blame, Came, Dame, Fame, Flame, Frame, Insane, Maim, Lame, Same etc. But there's also some 'half-rhymes' - Bane, Again, Drain. What happens if the rules are relaxed still further? Queen, Say, Aging etc.
The rules for a strict rhyme looks something like this: Take a word, let's say 'Gridlock', and convert to phonemic transcription - /grIdlok/. Now break the word into segments - /g rId l ok/.
This is not exactly breaking the word into syllables. Starting from the end, ask whether the final sound is a vowel, or semi-vowel+vowel pair. If it is, that is the final segment. Hence:
Frappe - /f rap ei:/
Greywacke - /g rei: wak i:/
Mondo - /m on d o/
In the case of 'Gridlock', there is no terminal vowel. So, identify the final vowel sound and the final consonant, treat them as a unit, and work backwards in the same way.
Gridlock - /g rid l ok/
Telephone - /t el ef @u:n/
Cassette - /k @s et/
The phoemic stream is devided into vowel-consonant pairs, with some isolated consonants, especially at the beginning. 'r' is treated as a semivowel that only occurs before other vowels. 'h', although it is strictly speaking vocalic, is treated as a consonant. This system of segmentation is eccentric, but (I hope) optimised for finding rhymes.
A strict rhyme should occur on the stressed syllable of a word, so stress is indicated thus:
Frappe - /f ~rap ei:/
Greywacke - /g ~rei: wak i:/
Mondo - /m ~on d o/
Gridlock - /g ~rid l ok/
Telephone - /t ~el ef @un/
Cassette - /k ~@s et/
So, we now know that a strict rhyme for 'Mondo' must end in /~on d@u: /, so 'Condo' /k on d@u:/ is acceptable, though 'Condor' /k on dO:/ is not. A rhyme for 'Salient' must end in /~ei:l i: @n t/, if such a word exists.
What about looser rhymes? Well, we can relax the rule about stressed segments by ignoring stress marking, so rhymes for 'Peregrination' (/p e reg rIn rin ei:S @n/) need only end in /@n/ or /rin ei:S @n/, for instance.
More usefully, some destinctions between consonants can be ignored. In particular, destinctions between nasals. If the three-way destinction between /m/, /n/ and /N/ is relaxed, the following words rhyme:
Pan /p An/
Sam /s Am/
Sang /s AN/
Destinctions between long and short vowels can be ignored, or between vowels preceeded by a glide and those not etc etc.
This is what I worked out during a quiet half hour at work. Implementation is the hard part. I'll need to brush up on my ASCII phonemics (most likely the SAMPA system), and refamilarise myself with a programming language (BASIC is probably adaquate, though not elegant).
However, I've been working on an algorithm for a rhyming dictionary. One that works the way songwriters work - allowing for loosening or tightening of the rules for what constitutes a rhyme.
Take the word 'Game'. There's plenty of strict rhymes for it: Blame, Came, Dame, Fame, Flame, Frame, Insane, Maim, Lame, Same etc. But there's also some 'half-rhymes' - Bane, Again, Drain. What happens if the rules are relaxed still further? Queen, Say, Aging etc.
The rules for a strict rhyme looks something like this: Take a word, let's say 'Gridlock', and convert to phonemic transcription - /grIdlok/. Now break the word into segments - /g rId l ok/.
This is not exactly breaking the word into syllables. Starting from the end, ask whether the final sound is a vowel, or semi-vowel+vowel pair. If it is, that is the final segment. Hence:
Frappe - /f rap ei:/
Greywacke - /g rei: wak i:/
Mondo - /m on d o/
In the case of 'Gridlock', there is no terminal vowel. So, identify the final vowel sound and the final consonant, treat them as a unit, and work backwards in the same way.
Gridlock - /g rid l ok/
Telephone - /t el ef @u:n/
Cassette - /k @s et/
The phoemic stream is devided into vowel-consonant pairs, with some isolated consonants, especially at the beginning. 'r' is treated as a semivowel that only occurs before other vowels. 'h', although it is strictly speaking vocalic, is treated as a consonant. This system of segmentation is eccentric, but (I hope) optimised for finding rhymes.
A strict rhyme should occur on the stressed syllable of a word, so stress is indicated thus:
Frappe - /f ~rap ei:/
Greywacke - /g ~rei: wak i:/
Mondo - /m ~on d o/
Gridlock - /g ~rid l ok/
Telephone - /t ~el ef @un/
Cassette - /k ~@s et/
So, we now know that a strict rhyme for 'Mondo' must end in /~on d@u: /, so 'Condo' /k on d@u:/ is acceptable, though 'Condor' /k on dO:/ is not. A rhyme for 'Salient' must end in /~ei:l i: @n t/, if such a word exists.
What about looser rhymes? Well, we can relax the rule about stressed segments by ignoring stress marking, so rhymes for 'Peregrination' (/p e reg rIn rin ei:S @n/) need only end in /@n/ or /rin ei:S @n/, for instance.
More usefully, some destinctions between consonants can be ignored. In particular, destinctions between nasals. If the three-way destinction between /m/, /n/ and /N/ is relaxed, the following words rhyme:
Pan /p An/
Sam /s Am/
Sang /s AN/
Destinctions between long and short vowels can be ignored, or between vowels preceeded by a glide and those not etc etc.
This is what I worked out during a quiet half hour at work. Implementation is the hard part. I'll need to brush up on my ASCII phonemics (most likely the SAMPA system), and refamilarise myself with a programming language (BASIC is probably adaquate, though not elegant).
Troll Theory
Hans Van Meegren was a Dutch painter of the early 20th century, ignored partly because he tried to paint in a style of 200 years previous, but mainly because he just wasn't a good painter.
He wanted to be accepted by the art establishment, to be appreciated and celebrated. But he also wanted to humiliate and perhaps destroy that establishment, in revenge for not appreciating his work.
This combination of contradictory impulses I call the Van Meegren syndrome.
He painted a fake Vermeer, intending to put it on the market as a lost masterpiece of the great painter, let the critics fawn over it, then expose the fraud after the sale. In this way he hoped to humiliate the art world. It took him 3 years to create the painting and artificially age it - a painstaking process.
Of course, when the painting was indeed sold, and landed him with a small fortune, he decided to forstall the exposure, and make some more. However, it is the psychological impulses behind the first painting which interests me here.
I suggest that the same syndrome is responsible for the prankster - one who disguises cruelty as humour, one who manipulates others from a position of power, but demands that his victims forgive him and appreciate his cleverness.
Similarly for the hacker. He tries to destroy or disrupt a computer system, but can never resist bragging about it, in the hope that his specialness will be seen and applauded, even by those who suffer from the disruption.
And finally, the internet troll. Here is someone who wants to be accepted as a powerful, respected, loved member of a community, but believes he would always be regarded as an inferior. So, he combines the desire to be at the top of the heap, with the desire to kick the heap from beneath him, in vengence for being at the bottom of the heap.
He becomes one who gains power within the group, by causing tension, by starting arguments, by irritating the group members. He may justify his childish games as 'making the discussion more interesting' or 'toying with lesser beings', but these are transparantly false.
One with Van Meegren syndrome can never win. Either the group ousts him - or ignores him, which comes to the same thing - or he destroys it. Either way he loses the game, or makes it impossible for him to win.
There is the question of why there are so many pranksters, hackers, and trolls around. Even though they all believe they are highly special and guifted. It's obviously true that intelligent or talented individuals are crushed and become resentful - this is a commonplace of modern western culture. However, only a handful of these troublemakers actually are intelligent or talented.
Also, people who actually are in some way special, and who are crushed down, do not in general become Van Meegren syndrome sufferers.
He wanted to be accepted by the art establishment, to be appreciated and celebrated. But he also wanted to humiliate and perhaps destroy that establishment, in revenge for not appreciating his work.
This combination of contradictory impulses I call the Van Meegren syndrome.
He painted a fake Vermeer, intending to put it on the market as a lost masterpiece of the great painter, let the critics fawn over it, then expose the fraud after the sale. In this way he hoped to humiliate the art world. It took him 3 years to create the painting and artificially age it - a painstaking process.
Of course, when the painting was indeed sold, and landed him with a small fortune, he decided to forstall the exposure, and make some more. However, it is the psychological impulses behind the first painting which interests me here.
I suggest that the same syndrome is responsible for the prankster - one who disguises cruelty as humour, one who manipulates others from a position of power, but demands that his victims forgive him and appreciate his cleverness.
Similarly for the hacker. He tries to destroy or disrupt a computer system, but can never resist bragging about it, in the hope that his specialness will be seen and applauded, even by those who suffer from the disruption.
And finally, the internet troll. Here is someone who wants to be accepted as a powerful, respected, loved member of a community, but believes he would always be regarded as an inferior. So, he combines the desire to be at the top of the heap, with the desire to kick the heap from beneath him, in vengence for being at the bottom of the heap.
He becomes one who gains power within the group, by causing tension, by starting arguments, by irritating the group members. He may justify his childish games as 'making the discussion more interesting' or 'toying with lesser beings', but these are transparantly false.
One with Van Meegren syndrome can never win. Either the group ousts him - or ignores him, which comes to the same thing - or he destroys it. Either way he loses the game, or makes it impossible for him to win.
There is the question of why there are so many pranksters, hackers, and trolls around. Even though they all believe they are highly special and guifted. It's obviously true that intelligent or talented individuals are crushed and become resentful - this is a commonplace of modern western culture. However, only a handful of these troublemakers actually are intelligent or talented.
Also, people who actually are in some way special, and who are crushed down, do not in general become Van Meegren syndrome sufferers.
Why sleep if you do not wish to dream?
It's 01:00. I should have been asleep 2 hours ago. I have to be awake at 05:00 this morning, and it's a long working day tomorrow. Of course, I'm not remotely tierd, I'm fired up with musical ideas, and actually happy for the first time in 24 hours.
Jeff hasn't got back to me, and I don't know what the situation is with him. I've invited Anna to the SFUK event, and she's checking her availability. Simon M has got a new old computer, and I'll have to canibalise the CD drive and hard disk from his old old computer to make it work. I've put together an algorithm for a new analog drum kit, the SP400 - now there's just the tedious process of putting it into practice. I now have to transfer several gigabytes of mp3s from the portable computer to the main one - can't do it tomorrow because I need the portable cleared just in case it's needed for the job tomorrow.
The job involves me getting to a local shopfront by 06:15, being driven to Brighton, setting up 5 or 6 projectors for Powerpoint presentations, hanging around for six hours in case one of them stops working, being driven back, and eventually paid £60.
It's for some dreary arts management conference. Speaking as one who used to manage an art gallery, and who possesses a higher degree in art theory, I don't give a flying rat about exactly what the conference is about, who's speaking, or what they're saying. And no one has thought it worth telling me.
The £60 will go on a new soundcard and a digital dictaphone. It's 01:25, and I'm going to connect the two computers together, and lie down.
Jeff hasn't got back to me, and I don't know what the situation is with him. I've invited Anna to the SFUK event, and she's checking her availability. Simon M has got a new old computer, and I'll have to canibalise the CD drive and hard disk from his old old computer to make it work. I've put together an algorithm for a new analog drum kit, the SP400 - now there's just the tedious process of putting it into practice. I now have to transfer several gigabytes of mp3s from the portable computer to the main one - can't do it tomorrow because I need the portable cleared just in case it's needed for the job tomorrow.
The job involves me getting to a local shopfront by 06:15, being driven to Brighton, setting up 5 or 6 projectors for Powerpoint presentations, hanging around for six hours in case one of them stops working, being driven back, and eventually paid £60.
It's for some dreary arts management conference. Speaking as one who used to manage an art gallery, and who possesses a higher degree in art theory, I don't give a flying rat about exactly what the conference is about, who's speaking, or what they're saying. And no one has thought it worth telling me.
The £60 will go on a new soundcard and a digital dictaphone. It's 01:25, and I'm going to connect the two computers together, and lie down.
Where's my muse gone?
Why can't I write lyrics at the moment? Words have never fallen easily onto the page for me, but I can usually force some out.
It may be that when I write lyrics, they are part of a larger project - usually a musical experiment. Goodbye Monster was an experiment with James Brown style funky drumming, and a vocoder. Elvis in Space was just part of teaching myself to sing. Let It Be was me trying to express how I felt about D, and Ring of Steel was an attempt to encapsulate the end of that phase of our friendship. Have You Ever was about my breakup with M, as well as a (failed) attempt to write in the style of Goldfrapp. Does She began as me trying to make something resembling Some Speculation by the Pet Shop Boys. And 12 Monkeys was me trying out some new drum sounds, and figuring out how to make the Reason NN-XT module make acid basslines.
In other words, I can't write songs simply to write songs - I need to be exploring some sonic possibility that has nothing to do with the meaning of the lyrics. Maybe this is the real reason why the music so often comes first.
It may be that when I write lyrics, they are part of a larger project - usually a musical experiment. Goodbye Monster was an experiment with James Brown style funky drumming, and a vocoder. Elvis in Space was just part of teaching myself to sing. Let It Be was me trying to express how I felt about D, and Ring of Steel was an attempt to encapsulate the end of that phase of our friendship. Have You Ever was about my breakup with M, as well as a (failed) attempt to write in the style of Goldfrapp. Does She began as me trying to make something resembling Some Speculation by the Pet Shop Boys. And 12 Monkeys was me trying out some new drum sounds, and figuring out how to make the Reason NN-XT module make acid basslines.
In other words, I can't write songs simply to write songs - I need to be exploring some sonic possibility that has nothing to do with the meaning of the lyrics. Maybe this is the real reason why the music so often comes first.
Aniversary
I've just realised: It's September 11th today.
3 years since it became impossible to satirise televison, have intellgent conversations about politics, or hear the words "I'm not a racist but..." from people who consider themselves tolerant.
3 years since we could open a newspaper without lurid headlines about people who are:
(a) Dark skinned
(b) Arabic or Middle Eastern.
(c) Islamic or Islamicist or Militant Islamicist
(d) Remanants loyal to the old regime
(e) Part of an isolated pocket of resistance
(f) Fanatical
(g) Anti-American
(h) Prominant members of Al-Qa'ida, or having links with that mysterious organisation, or inspired by it.
(i) Invisible
(j) Everywhere
(k) Amazingly well financed
(l) Impossible to reason with
(m) Suicidal
(n) Extremely good at recruiting others
(o) Motivated entirely by an incomprehensible religion
(p) Benefit scroungers
(q) Smelly
(r) Supported by communists and anti-war protesters
(s) Celebate
(t) Stupid
(u) Pro-palastinian
(v) Misogynistic
(w) Speaking funny languages
(x) Better organised than the American military
(y) Very well armed
(z) Planning an attack on your home town. Tomorrow
Odd how we never noticed these people before.
3 years since it became impossible to satirise televison, have intellgent conversations about politics, or hear the words "I'm not a racist but..." from people who consider themselves tolerant.
3 years since we could open a newspaper without lurid headlines about people who are:
(a) Dark skinned
(b) Arabic or Middle Eastern.
(c) Islamic or Islamicist or Militant Islamicist
(d) Remanants loyal to the old regime
(e) Part of an isolated pocket of resistance
(f) Fanatical
(g) Anti-American
(h) Prominant members of Al-Qa'ida, or having links with that mysterious organisation, or inspired by it.
(i) Invisible
(j) Everywhere
(k) Amazingly well financed
(l) Impossible to reason with
(m) Suicidal
(n) Extremely good at recruiting others
(o) Motivated entirely by an incomprehensible religion
(p) Benefit scroungers
(q) Smelly
(r) Supported by communists and anti-war protesters
(s) Celebate
(t) Stupid
(u) Pro-palastinian
(v) Misogynistic
(w) Speaking funny languages
(x) Better organised than the American military
(y) Very well armed
(z) Planning an attack on your home town. Tomorrow
Odd how we never noticed these people before.
Slave to the rhythm/system
I've got a few pages of notes for a song. Provisionally titled 'Come Down', its an attack on the blind mystical optimism of rave culture. Here's a few notes to illustrate:
last night a dj saved the world
out of your head or out of your mind
buying in and selling out
living in a trance
the future is in your working hands, not your swimming head
The chorus looks like this:
As long as the music's loud enough
As long as the drugs are strong enough
You can stay lost in sound
You might never come down
Obviously a lot of work still to be done, but the core is there.
last night a dj saved the world
out of your head or out of your mind
buying in and selling out
living in a trance
the future is in your working hands, not your swimming head
The chorus looks like this:
As long as the music's loud enough
As long as the drugs are strong enough
You can stay lost in sound
You might never come down
Obviously a lot of work still to be done, but the core is there.
Promise
The last post was a little bit overblown, and the ones before that quite trivial. However, I make a small promise to myself. I won't edit what I have written, except to correct spelling.
A touch of self pity
This blog is for three people:
(1) My old friend Paul B, who reads it sometimes.
(2) Nick
(3) My future self
It seems to me that I've lost more than thirty years of my life. I want to somehow hold onto what remains. The last 20 years, which should have been the best, were largely wasted because I didn't know what to do with them.
So many things I should have done, and so many I should have avoided. I had the chance to see other countries, but didn't because I was afraid. I should have encouraged the good relationships, and ditched the bad ones, but I didn't try because it seemed beyond my control. I should have tried harder at learning languages, reading books, and making music, instead of playing computer games, pretending to study at university, and watching worthless television.
I want my teens and twenties back, because I know now what I should have done with them.
I used to keep philosophical notebooks, so I wouldn't forget my ideas. Now that the flood of new (and usually stupid) ideas that came from my mind has slowed to a trickle, I don't want to forget my life. What remains of it.
(1) My old friend Paul B, who reads it sometimes.
(2) Nick
(3) My future self
It seems to me that I've lost more than thirty years of my life. I want to somehow hold onto what remains. The last 20 years, which should have been the best, were largely wasted because I didn't know what to do with them.
So many things I should have done, and so many I should have avoided. I had the chance to see other countries, but didn't because I was afraid. I should have encouraged the good relationships, and ditched the bad ones, but I didn't try because it seemed beyond my control. I should have tried harder at learning languages, reading books, and making music, instead of playing computer games, pretending to study at university, and watching worthless television.
I want my teens and twenties back, because I know now what I should have done with them.
I used to keep philosophical notebooks, so I wouldn't forget my ideas. Now that the flood of new (and usually stupid) ideas that came from my mind has slowed to a trickle, I don't want to forget my life. What remains of it.
Twice in one night
How can I be stood up twice in 12 hours? First Jeff finds he's going out with a female friend who's just got back from holiday. So I ask Steve B online if he'd like to meet up later, for talk, hugs, and sex (followed by more hugs and talk). He says he can get to me sometime after eleven, so I go for a 2 hour bike ride and at 23:30 he texts to say he can't come because the MOT on his car has lapsed.
So I go cruising, and run into Brian. He is the ex-boyfriend of an ex-boyfriend. I was Russell's boyfriend when I was 20, then it was Brian, then Mark (who was abusive), and now finally David. Russell is a serial devoter - he loves one man at a time, absolutely.
I like Brian - he's intelligent, completely non-threatening, and would make a good friend. I got his number, but I think he doesn't want a friendship. Not because he doeen't like me; just because he wants a break from any kind of emotional involvement.
We'll see whether Jeff actually does want to meet. And what Brian wants. And maybe even what I want.
So I go cruising, and run into Brian. He is the ex-boyfriend of an ex-boyfriend. I was Russell's boyfriend when I was 20, then it was Brian, then Mark (who was abusive), and now finally David. Russell is a serial devoter - he loves one man at a time, absolutely.
I like Brian - he's intelligent, completely non-threatening, and would make a good friend. I got his number, but I think he doesn't want a friendship. Not because he doeen't like me; just because he wants a break from any kind of emotional involvement.
We'll see whether Jeff actually does want to meet. And what Brian wants. And maybe even what I want.
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