Mein Kamp

Outside my window, the sky is the colour of white socks that have been worn for one day too many which can only mean one thing - summer in Scotland. To be fair we have had a fair bit of sunshine so far, but today I'm just being gently reminded that this isn't going to be a particularly warm summer, just in case any little niggles of delusion managed to seep into my head. And here comes the rain as I type this. Time to bring in the washing. I'm sitting here in my parent's house with solid walls and a roof over my head, and I'm actually pretty grateful for it. No, I've not just watched a harrowing documentary about some family in Ethiopia that has to live in a raw sewage pipe and eat glass for breakfast. I'm not long back from a jolly little camping trip.

An accurate representation of what going
 to the toilet looked like during our camp

I abso-bloody-lutely love camping. It's an experience that reassures you that you have not been completely softened into mush from our electric tin opener and deluxe iced tea maker culture. Although it is slightly embarrassing to explain to other people.
So you had fun camping?
Yeah, it was great!
So what exactly did you do?
Well we burned stuff on the fire and drank a lot
And?
Uhm...
Talking about how much you admired the beautiful scenery only makes you sound like an elderly relative that spends their remaining days staring out the window collecting stamps. And talking about how you felt closer to nature just sounds like you've just unchained yourself from the gates of a coal power plant. Both of which will inevitably make eyes roll. So I can't really sell this whole thing very well. But I really recommend the experience for getting to know folk on a better level than you would in any other situation. That is, as long as you don't mind pooping in the woods, pulling blood sucking parasites out of your body, and generally not encountering many ways to set your adrenaline flowing. Oh, and if the people you are camping with are twats, then the whole experience is going to be shite.

I realise now that anyone reading this blog has completely lost faith in me, but I'm going to try and continue even if it's just for me. I'm in the process of finding jobs and work experience, and I'm back at my parents for the summer. Which isn't depressing as I initially thought, I have a few nights of drinking sorted  and my mother  is under the amusing impression that I'm 'seeing girls'. If anyone is reading this, then thanks, really.  

I could be wrong...

It's been a month. And although I've more or less fallen off the side of earth in terms of this blog, I do hope there will be people still reading this, although that's a bit of a push as I realise that I've made many promises in terms of how often I'll write this. But after typing the first few sentences, I've remembered that I do actually like this a lot. So even if my followers have tutted in disgust and bit the dust weeks ago, I'm going to try and keep this up, if only to pleasure myself. Kinky. As to where I've been for the past month, I've actually had to do work for university (STUDENTS doing WORK, I know, I know) so after panicking over miscellaneous pieces of coursework at the last minute and answering ambiguous exam questions completely wrong, I'm free.

For my web design coursework I had decided to do a website for a musician called Jah Wobble. And after readjusting his face hundreds of times to fit a website background, and after cutting, editing, pasting, snipping, and adjusting his biography multiple times, I'm pretty well versed about his work as a bassist. And despite the fact that he has worked on almost 50 albums during his career, I'm going to discuss a band he was in for only 2 years - Public Image Ltd.

Wearing a motorbike helmet in sunny weather was
a pretty cool thing to do in 1978

Now, picture the scene. It's 1978 and it's the hangover of punk. John Lydon has had a bitter split from the infamous Sex Pistols. It now of course, seemed likely that John 'Johnny Rotten' Lydon, would have faded away after his 5 minutes of fame as a controversial front man for a  controversial band. This, however, was not to be the case. Forming a band with guitarist Keith Levene, bassist Jah Wobble, and drummer Jim Walker, the group recorded 'Public Image', an attack on Lydon's former boss Malcolm McLaren which hit the top ten in the charts. For anyone that doubts the bass guitar's role in a band, I urge you to listen to this song with decent speakers/headphones. Wobble lives up to his name instantly. The hard-hitting and incredibly simple bass line grabs you and aims straight for the head. Far from being the most approachable band, with it's bowel moving bass-lines, jagged guitar, hypnotic, repetitive drumming, and ear splitting wails,  the band still managed to clock up hits such as the ode to Lydon's dying mother 'Death Disco'. With Lydon being the only member that remained throughout the band's career, the musicians that came and went constantly changed the material the band produced. It was sometimes mainstream, it was sometimes avant-garde, but  it was always extremely interesting, pushing the boundaries of music at the time and influencing countless muscians and bands.

Recommending listening; Public Image, Annalisa, Death Disco, Careering, Radio 4, Flower of Romance, Rise. I also have a last fm account once again, so feel free to judge me. Thanks for reading!

Mirror in the Bathroom

Do you ever look out the window and think "I wish I wasn't working, the weather is absolutely amazing today"? Or, in my case, have you ever thought "The weather is really nice today, but I can't think of do other than piss about on the laptop/tv"? Yeah. This weekend, however, I received a phone call from a friend asking if I wanted to go to the park for a 'picnic'. Which sounded pretty awful. When I think of picnics, I think of an English gentlemen and his upper class friends in straw boating hats eating cress sandwiches before a splendid game of cricket. But getting drunk with friends in hot weather under a large tree actually turned out to be a very pleasant experience. We also unsuccessfully climbed trees, pulled an absolutely wasted friend away from a fight from some junkies, had a slightly surreal experience with a drug dealer, and almost threw up after an experience with marijuana.

The poor bugger didn't know what hit him

So the day provided me with a lot of bloggy sort of thoughts. You know, the case for marijuana legalisation, the consequences of drinking, generic stuff like that. But today I'd like to praise bathrooms. I spent a lot of time in there after my brush with 'weed', either standing over the toilet or lying in the bath, giggling and hugging a bottle of shampoo. Thanks to the fact that I live in a developed country, almost every building I go in has a room with a sink and a toilet at the very least. A hundred years ago of course, bathrooms were virtually non existent. And for many people, they didn't properly feature in the home until the early sixties. But I love everything about them. During a party, before a job interview, after an exam, it's a place of sanctuary. Sitting on the shitter, thinking about life and all that. The lock on the door (that's usually there) means that you are completely separated from the world and it's perceptions of you, as you contemplate morality or attempt to squeeze out last nights fajitas. And after your 10th can of lager, you can sing your heart out without any fear, ignoring the nagging thought in your mind that someone is behind the door sniggering. And it's the same for the shower and the sink - they are designed to cleanse. The whole bathroom experience is one of detox, poison, in the body, or in the mind, gets washed away. That's why I love bathrooms. Or maybe it's because I can walk about naked and not get funny looks for a change. Ahem.

The university term ends soon, and I have my work cut out. I really can't make a website. Help. Aside from that, everything is peachy I guess, thanks for reading!

The Kids Don't Like It but the Folks Approve

My mother, bless her, despite never reading this blog, gave me some excellent words of wisdom. "How the hell can you get inspiration for your blog if you never step outside your flat?". A slight exaggeration, but nevertheless, in there lies a dirty little truth. As you've seen from my past blogs I sometimes get a little lazy. So I go out during the day often, for a little run into town even if it amounts to nothing. But aside from playing with a cat when I was drunk, and walking along a street with a squirrel following on the wall beside (yes, I actually regard those as highlights in my increasingly boring weeks), the irony is that most of the noteworthy things in my life have happened at the flat. I stood on my headphones and broke them, I broke my mobile phone, and I broke the dishwasher. And my parents came up.

Derrick the racist dung beetle;
only included in a deleted scene 

Now yes, it's nice to see my folks. But this weekend was like an extended version of the recent phone calls I've been having from my mother (nagging, nagging, nagging), complete with disappointed facial expressions and the folding of arms. But perhaps worse than this is looking at a parent as they tap their hand impatiently in a particular way that reminds you - you did that exact same thing the night before. Whether we like to admit it or not, we pick up a lot from the folks. I'm told that I have my mother's eyes and my father's temper. My mother's ability to see the worst in people, and my father's love for the band Queen. And like how I'm glad that folks came up, but I also get a little tired of their presence, I'm glad I inherited a few traits, and relieved that my views are also a little different. My dad is one of those 'traditionally racist' sorts of people. He'll say "Oh typical, it's a bunch of fucking wogs blocking the road" or "Those slanty eyed bastards in the Chinese are fucking ripping us off again", but without having any desire to clear them off the face of the earth. So I'm pretty glad I'm not a carbon copy of my dad. And not just because of the hair-loss (which hopefully won't be happening anytime soon). Despite the general feeling that better technology is making us lazier, I'd like to think that in some respects, we are actually evolving. For example the way we view others. Thinking about it, aren't we just taking ages to reach normality? I haven't ever heard of racist dung beetles or homophobic chimpanzees. Maybe I haven't been watching David Attenborough's documentaries close enough.

Life updates - not much. There's something I'd like to complain about, but I'm not sure if that person reads this blog or not. It could be you!!!!!11111. Have a few essays and stuff, which I'm not panicking about (even though I really should be). Also if the 'A Beer from the Shower' people are reading this, I had a dream about you guys telling me I was cool. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Another drunk blog tm. Thanks for reading!

Isolation

Tuesdays come too quickly - so let's get all my boring updates out of the way first. Our final newsday was the best so far (see previous blogs for explanation on newsdays), and I'm seriously considering a career in radio because of it. On one of the bulletins we did, we played a clip of an interview, which lasted about 1 minute. What me and the other presenter didn't realise was that the person editing had accidentally changed the tone of the interviewer - so it sounded remarkably like Jigsaw from the Saw films. Our microphones were turned off due to the interview, but we came close to urinating ourselves with laughter. About a couple of seconds before the clip ended I managed to suck it all in, and read the next piece of news (almost) without fault. The other presenter was a little better than me, but we both received praise and our broadcasts got good feedback.

Yeah, some of my course mates are twisted
serial killers on the side. Hey, it's a hobby.

Because that is a load of my shoulders, I got into the mindset of "I've done a lot, I deserve a break" which is a dangerous place to be. Today I handed out a CVs to potential employers, and it was the first time I'd left my flat in a couple of days. Inevitably, dishes didn't get washed, and the pile of dirty clothes rapidly increased. And while I was 'cut off' from the real world, I read an article about a guy who had lived away from society for five years. Sometimes the concept of that idea really grabs me, because I have a problem with people. They are too sneaky. The other day some guy turned up at my door and almost got me to change power companies without me realising it. And the owner of a website is trying to guilt trip me into writing for his website again even though I am completely unpaid, and he accidentally deleted all my entries expecting me to write them up again. I'm way too nice, so this only helps them. But the article I was reading told me why this 'hermit' decided to re-join society and start a family. Rather than discovering himself - he gradually got more lost in his own world, making obsessive little journals about bird's flight patterns and stuff. You see, no matter how much you bitch and complain about people - their manipulation, their nastiness, their kindness, their love, their wants and needs are ultimately the real key for unlocking your full potential. Becoming insane and eccentric is overrated.

Alright, time to head out. There's a cheese and wine party at a friend's tonight (not a proper one, just a silly student one) so I'll let you know what eating 300 grams of feta and drinking ridiculous amounts of booze does to the body in my next post. Thanks for reading!

Radio Activity

Sorry, sorry, sorry and sorry. I have been reading people's blogs, but I've not really bothered with comments until today. Still dreadfully busy. But damnit, if a couple of people are still waiting for a post every week then I'll deliver. It's our final news day tomorrow, so after that I'll continue to stalk everyone as per usual. I'm one of the presenters for our radio day, and I've overcome my nervous habit of becoming monotonous, so I won't sound like a Scottish Microsoft Sam. I sacrificed a lecture to interview someone for the bulletin, and she was incredibly helpful and nice, in contrast to the angry e-mail I received last night from our politics lecturer about poor attendance. I think the right decision was made.

I hope it wasn't just me that had nightmares thanks to this video

Last week, our TV news bulletin went pretty well. There were a couple of minor problems with the camera shots I made, but they were ultimately pretty good, and there was a terrible pun based on a shot of a deep end sign I had done on the story of an Olympic swimmer. To celebrate, I went out to McDonald's to order a 'Big Tasty', a meal that has become a Wednesday ritual for me. It isn't that great, and I know it's awful for me, but it has a nice little sauce and it's filling. So I was queuing up for this slab of meat caked in floor dirt in a stale bun, when a young woman jumped in front of me. She was in crutches. I didn't exactly tell her to get lost, but should I have said something? Call me sadistic, but I don't think a Big Mac was vital for her condition. I sometimes get it with older folk too. Have they really earned to skip the queue?  This isn't an attack on disabled or old people, I'm not that stupid. It's an attack on rudeness. My brother had a mild mental disability, and he often took advantage of people who didn't know better. It wasn't their fault, but I'm basically saying that while it's pathetic to make fun of/disrespect disabled people and older people, there's no need to be over generous. More often than not, they appreciate being treated like a normal human being and not a new born baby.

I could have done more stuff tonight in terms of preparation, but I've followed the advice of a friend and I'm not going to stress out before the big day. After getting to grips with the radio equipment (reading the news along to the melody of Take On Me) today, I'm pretty confident. Bring it on!

Come Together

Well I didn’t do a midweek post. Typical journalist, eh? To be fair I’ve been pretty busy. I went back home, and it turns out that I didn’t need a final filling, because the care of my teeth has shot up dramatically. So there wasn’t really a part four as such, just a slap on the wrist and a hasty exit back home. Our first newsday was semi-successful. Decent stories and content, but we were heavily criticized by our lecturers at the end of the day for our teamwork. I didn’t know what everyone was going half of the time, I was almost in a world of my own writing loads of stories, and going out reporting on some jazz thing that was happening during the day.

Ug and Og; Bog is taking the
 picture with his ipad 2 camera

The experience was nothing short of hectic, with the hours flying away. And after years of saying ‘it taught me the aspect of teamwork’ to teachers / lecturers / scout leaders / obese barmen in order to impress them, this was the first time in my life where I was actually telling the truth.  I admittedly waltzed in, thinking everyone could go off and do their own thing. And that simply was not the case. With an increasing amount of team-building exercises being featured in job interviews (I know many friends, and have experienced first hand, tasks such as building giraffes out of newspaper) you’d think that the importance of teamwork was a relatively new thing. Ug, Og, and Bog may have been in slightly different circumstances (perhaps killing Wooly Mammoths as opposed to making a bridges for toy cars out of spaghetti and blu-tack) but they probably faced similar situations. With Ug’s amazing craft skills, spears would be made to drive the wooly mammoth into a pit. With Og’s brute force he would lead the charge. Bog, the brains of the outfit, would devise the plan to drive the mammoth over a cliff, therefore killing it. A great team effort. Okay, maybe not so relevant. But if there’s one thing I learned from all this so far, it’s that you really have to try, without crawling up to others for a hearty pat on the back or a big ‘thanks!’. At the end of the day, everyone is in the same amount of shit as you. That takes a wee bit of getting used to.

TV news day tomorrow, and I've been chasing stories for the last couple of days because we are allowed to pre-shoot a couple of stories. I can operate a camera now pretty professionally, but I am still getting all worked up about the shots I did today because so many things can go wrong. I'm just slightly worried because we really have to make up for last week tomorrow. All I can do just now is have an early night. Thanks for reading!