Scotch.

Christmas hasn't felt the same since this chap was removed from terrestrial TV. He was a hero of mine. Articulate, well-dressed and a complete and utter tech-freak.

His warm demeanour and air of confidence gave skeletons everywhere a good name, unlike that wretched Skeletor.

Tuesday Thought.

I'm learning that adults truly believe Christmas to be a period of possibility and magic. A time where a tub of 'Celebrations' (a mixed bag of miniature popular chocolate bars that lies at the cheaper end of seasonal confectionery), is a tool capable of erasing a years worth of disdain and irritability.

'Celebrations' do not have that power. These bad boys however, are a step in the right direction:

This made my day.

This made my day. Not because they are taking a unified stand for something they believe in, nor was it because it was a genuine display of emotion but because they are chanting along to one of my favourite songs.

And people say Grime is pointless.

Three things I learnt this week.

1)
Study the small print, for it will attempt to violate you every chance it gets, like a horny cellmate.

2)

Insist that your offspring develop their own businesses. Not for financial gains but just so it will empower them with greater control over the amount of muttonheads they'll have to work with.

3)
Archiving matters. Memories captured and lived in the digital realm can very easily disappear into the ether.

A thought from Monday.

I've been treading water in employment for 15 years. Verdict? Be a criminal. Teach your kids how to rob stagecoaches and clone credit cards.

Modernity is a bitch.

Today saw the last of the Sony Walkmans leave the production line. The enigmatic and sometimes hefty portable music player of the 80’s that introduced us to phrases such as ‘belt clip’, ‘auto reverse’ and ‘mega bass’, has finally waved the proverbial white flag and is being put to rest.

Cassette tapes were arguably one of the most reasonable and realistic forms of portable audio storage. Great pleasure could be had from the streaming contents of a TDK D90 (or the Memorex equivalent during past days of austerity), but in an age governed by terabytes (for the record, anybody with a terabyte of music is stealing way beyond the acceptable quota), concepts such as filtering, and becoming familiar with music are gone. 

Ah, how we all enjoyed making mix-tapes, selecting songs that would best express our pubescent turmoil, then labelling the inlay with decorative bubble writing – bliss.  Now however, such innocent pleasures are redundant, as a person can easily saunter the world with every single piece of recorded music at their fingertips with accompanying thumbnail art. 

I am very much a huge fan of Walkmans and use mine on occasion, despite always being met with looks of disgust and labelled as a man averting modernity.

Personally, Walkmans have provided the backdrop for numerous memories and experiences. Be it en route to school trading tapes with friends, or mastering the feat of rewinding a tape using just a well-oiled wrist and a Parker Pen, (spare me your derision's, when your imitation Duracell AA batteries are on their last legs, you will do anything to hear that Chesney Hawkes number again).

So it is with lofty esteem that I say, thank you Sony Walkman and I bid you adieu. And please, do take some comfort in knowing that iPods will be joining you one day.

My very own walkman...with Mega Bass!

Typical me.

This morning I came across one of my school reports from year 7. At this point in time I was 12 years of age and my reliance on a nurturing, primary school environment had all but left. Here are some highlights:

Attendance: 220 days out of a possible 220 days

Appearance: Good/Ex

Extra curricular:
Basketball squad, Computer Club, Maths Club (they felt it necessary to omit my membership of the Stamp Club).

Form Tutor's comment:
K has the potential to do very well, however he seems to lack the will to make the most of himself.

Music
K is musical and has excellent keyboard skills.

IT
K works efficiently and is generally helpful to other pupils. (I find it devastatingly cliched that the IT teacher uses the term 'efficiently).

French
K could do very well in this subject but his classwork is too often marred by his tendency to waste time and be disruptive.

English
He has many very interesting ideas but these are rarely developed fully in his written pieces.

My night off.

Art I like #4

My iPod is nothing more than a revolving audio whore-house. Loaded with albums, radio sets and podcasts, it is my daily sanctuary in a faceless commute. Most people assume that it contains nothing more than the revered soundtrack of a 21st century nomad (jazz, opera, folk, grime) and you would be right to assume so, but over the last year, a new genre has crept into my playlists and is fast becoming my sound of choice. 

Dubbed ETM, (emotional trap music) it is the broody tale-telling of drug-related exploits, atop of some of the most furious, bass-laden infectious yet melodic compositions. Many are surprised when I valiantly come to the defence of Rick Ross, Young Jeezy and The Clipse but to me, these writers are marvels, combining trademarked cadences and vowel-heavy haphazard ablibs with urban vernacular, resulting in lofty narratives of consumerism, hedonism and all the hallmarks of ‘a life in the trap’.

1/ '...take a sip of merriement would you!'

DISCLAIMER: I am prone to starting and stopping, taking undue rest breaks after very little amounts of work, so if chapter 2 never surfaces, you know why.

“Ok, so after this round, we go right,” Josh pleaded.

“Come on you wet fish! Just drink! Derek commanded. Simultaneously, they lifted the square-bottomed shot glasses and threw its contents down their respective hatches.

“Woooo, fuck yeah! THAT, is what I’m talking about, “Derek crooned as his inhibitions began to dissolve. “Man, booze after work on a Friday should be engraved into the tablets of law in this country.”

“No it bloody shouldn’t,” protested Josh. “Booze is a plague. It does nothing more than lift a man high then subsequently drag a man down into the depths of depression.”

“Good Lord Josh, take a sip of merriment would you!” offered Derek as a response. His head pulsating rhythms that only a shot of dark rum, chased with a shot of white rum could induce. “Without alcohol, mankind would do nothing but work and watch ITV dramas. Most of us would not even have been conceived if it weren’t for a swig of cider and an ill-made condom.”

Their woozy banter hung low in their corner of Smiths bar. Every week, they chose to sit in the most remote corner of the restaurant, away from the bankers and brokers and their European beers and regulation bespoke office wear. They chose to sit in the valley of seclusion at the far end of the bar, cocooned in conversation and sheltered by familiarity. Smiths’ was like most bars in the city, lacking in taste and decor but overcompensating with top shelf liquor and well endowed waitresses. The walls were painted shades of green, with crimson streaks lavishly thrown in at random points to qualify for art-deco interior design. The majority of the high-chairs and wooden benches had been removed and the only bench that remained was a small, uninviting number, which Josh and Derek royally claimed with every visit. High tables were scattered intermittently around the bar, and stood stained with the memories of cocktails past. Josh sat alone while Derek made a toilet run, his bladders’ way of telling him he had drunk beyond his limit. Josh felt the slow creep of intoxication, the loosening of the tongue, the false euphoria, yep, he was well on his way, to his dismay.

Just then, Derek returned armed with a tray holding two more shots of clear liquid and 2 tall drinks that contained a tonnage of crushed ice and mint leaves.

“Derek, what the hell...”

“Live a little my man, It’s Friday” he swooned, his face now plastered with an ear to ear grin.

“Exactly, Friday. MY day,” grumbled Josh. “This evening is the one night that is furthest away from Monday morning and sometimes, I’d like to bask in that notion, to sit quietly and contemplate its...

“..contemplating. That is your Achilles Heel my friend,” interrupted Derek, his voice laced with mockery and indignation. “Do not THINK...”he said, his eyes flirting with the shot glass in front of him.  “... do NOT search... just learn...to live.” And with that nugget of wisdom, Derek downed the shot of clear liquid and followed it with a mighty howl and a shiver. “Come on Josh, catch up mate.”

Reluctantly, Josh reached for the drink and gulped the poison, which caused less internal burn than the last.

“So, Josh,” began Derek, “there are a vast amount of ladies in here, a dame for every kind of man. Any taken your fancy yet?”

Josh surveyed the room, trying to spot a woman that didn’t look like a poor-mans’ imitation of some character from a late night American TV drama.

“Ok, well not that group over there for starters.” Josh stated while gesturing to a cluster of hip women no more than 10 feet away from them.

“Why not?”

“Have you seen what they are drinking?” Derek shook his head. “Pints!” Confusion leapt across Derek’s face. “A pint of lager is the most masculine drink on the planet, and to see it being consumed by woman, I have to say, is highly off-putting.” Derek’s confusion remained in tact. “Next, SHE’LL be watching the football and asking me where HER dinner is, or demanding my sperm in HER never-ending quest to procreate.

“You ARE joking” asked Derek, slyly mocking his counterparts’ intonation while tilting his head in disbelief.

“’’Fraid not,” he replied matter-of-factly. “It’s one of my little theories about the fairer sex.”

Josh had many theories regarding the fairer sex and they ranged from the ridiculous, (a woman who is a vegetarian is a closeted lesbian), to the even more ridiculous, (a woman who refuses to eat more than a salad for dinner, is probably the woman whose culinary skills do not surpass salad making).

“Ok, how about one of the ladies in that group by the bar”. Josh’s attention now directed at the lively group of Antipodeans at the bar. They were all strikingly gorgeous, blonde, athletic, covered in early onset signs of skin cancer, smiley 30 somethings, who sipped Bellinis while cradling purses and clutch-bags that Josh valued at more than a month of his wages.“Surely one of them grabs your attention.”Josh shifted in his seat to take a better look.

“Thing is...”

“This I have to hear...”laughed Derek.

“While they are obviously beautiful women, I can’t help but wonder what they will be like in 20 years time, when they can no longer squeeze into this months “must have” outfits and have outgrown their friends and their Blackberrys. What kind of a companion will they make in the long run?

“Who..on earth..is talking about the long run?  All I’m talking about is a vessel...” Derek began to stare at the group intensely, his eyes glazed over as he rubbed the palms of his hands against each other, finding sensuality and wisdom in the friction, his voice now taking on a soft, guru-like quality “...a woman, to take home, and ravage in the comfort of your own home...”

Just then, the lights above flickered, interrupting his sermon and throwing him back into reality.

“Shit”, cursed Derek, slightly annoyed that his Descartes moment had been stolen. “Last orders. Ok, let’s finish these off and try to squeeze in another” he said.

“Another,” said Josh, his words accompanied with a shaking of the head and an insightful grin. “Everything with you is always ANOTHER” he continued, the alcohol beginning to slur his speech and causing him to sway slightly. “Seeeeee...” the elongated vowel a result of the rum, mint and ice concoction he was nursing, “...that is the great trouble with us today, we always want another...and another...

And with that, Derek thought it perfect timing to make another trip to the bar to order another round. He weaved through the tapestry of adults like a veteran, anticipating which way each person would move, gliding through the hoards of revellers, such precision made him almost God-like in motion.  Meanwhile, Josh sat alone, holistically awash in drunkenness and vulnerability. In these isolated minutes, the effect of the nights’ alcohol and a 45-hour working week seemed to move at warp speed. He could feel his body fading. His mind swirled and his thoughts ebbed away at his brain. He loathed this feeling and the confusion it came with. His head grew heavy and his thoughts grew dark. He tried to hone his vision on the table in front of him but discipline had long gone and the delayed messages to his limbs were almost incomprehensible. Josh’ eyelids waned and darkness began to engulf his world. His hearing remained slightly in tact but was tarnished with a vibrant, high-pitched sensation, a frequency usually reserved for canines and sonar. As his head tilted back, he could hear the indistinct chatter of the room and he could just about hear Derek muttering, “Back to mine for a nightcap?”

Art I like #3

I am becoming a Kandinsky fiend. This one is called "Composition X" Ir reminds

To view more of his work, click here.

Three things I learnt this week

1) Austerity is the new black. These emergency measures, which typically include cuts to the public sector workforce, a rise in the retirement age, tax hikes and a culling of public sector pensions, are donned as the must-have measures needed to re-balance the struggling economies of multiple members of the Euro Zone. In the run up to this weeks’ Emergency Budget, the word has maintained a slow creep into the mouths of the Whitehall caste, which can only indicate that Britain may well soon become members of Club Austerity. 

         2) Hollywood must make use of worldwide acting talent. Witnessing Denzel Washington’s abysmal Caribbean accent in The Mighty Quinn, an accent so hideous in tone and authenticity that it lends credence to Taye Diggs’ own in ‘How Stella Got Her Groove Back’, is support enough for the integration of international actors into the Hollywood fold. I am not joking. Watch the film, his accent is awful to the point of enjoyment.

         3) There is a world of difference between giving advice and giving orders.

...from Frustrated, UK.

Every evening I return home from work, I find my letter box bursting with mini-manifestos, dire slogans and an overuse of the word ‘immigrant’, a sharp reminder that the election is little more than a week and change away.

Personally, I loathe election year politics. It reminds me of the pre-fight hype machine I witnessed during my years at secondary school. The fight is announced and the henchmen of the battlers begin the PR campaign with such memorable quotable as: “my guy is a swingers’ mate” and “he can’t fight, ask him what happened when he fought Stephen back in year 9.” This kind of pre-amble almost always led to a disappointing performance.

The bigger problem though, seems to be that election year politics almost acts as a deterrent from election year government. Like some Don King of national leadership, it manages to capture and distract spectators with its lofty intonation, oratory prowess and the occasional biblical reference and this years’ election, coupled with the introduction of the debates, firmly cemented this idea for me. Since the election was announced some 6 weeks ago, the art of distraction has been in full swing, and in the process of debating tomorrows’ leaders and their boundless promise, we have somehow silently turned our backs on the government de jour.

With hollow rhetoric at an all time high, wouldn’t our time be better spent reading the legislative timetable for the remainder of the year? Wouldn’t we do our system justice if we unplugged ourselves from the endless spin coverage, dived into a few political science books and begin trawling through the vast theories and acronyms which would help prepare and inform our imminent choice and responsibility that forms that backbone of the country’s democratic values?

Instead, we choose to be entertained by sound bites and pandering, probably because it resembles the generic Saturday evening programming that we all love. I’m surprised Ant and Dec aren’t hosting the debates, dowsing the candidates who give inadequate responses in orange goo.

(written on May 3rd 2010)

Thoughts on the Digital Economy Bill

(This was written on April 13th. I almost didn't post this as there is a large section of the bill devoted to television and radio regulation, the role of Channel 4 and the role of Ofcom which I have not covered. All this rant does, is focus on one aspect of the bill. For a wider perspective, please read the bill in full here: (http://www.opsi.gov.uk/acts/acts2010/ukpga_20100024_en_1)

I was very annoyed to hear about the abrupt passing of the Digital Economy Bill. The bill is a new set of measures the government wishes to put in place to ensure that the internet is run justly and that ghastly acts of file-sharing, that may cost companies and artists money are culled.

One of the major parts of the bill aims to limit the use and access of illegal use of copyrighted material, material which has been copyrighted as intellectual property, and in order for a person to use/reproduce such property, they must seek permission from the owner of the material. Sounds fair enough don’t it? Not quite. You see, most artists rarely own the rights to their music, in fact, industry insiders will tell you that it is standard practice for music labels to stipulate ownerships of an artists’ work in contracts, with ownership lasting anywhere between 5 – 25 years. All that aside though, how could the bill affect your internet experience? Well, sites that post audio/visual copyrighted material without consent could be fined, as could the viewer. One such site is YouTube, the one stop shop for all things audio and visual, the lion share which is posted illegally. At this junction, I find it fitting to give you an example of an illegal post. Person A buys a Justin Bieber CD and thinks that his art is so fantastic, that they world must be able to have access to it, so they rip the tracks and post them on YouTube, with accompanying artwork. While this sounds like commonplace activity, it is, in fact, an illegal act because buying a CD does not give you permission to share/reproduce the material in such a way without permission sought, however, illegalities aside, such acts are commonplace. One of the biggest questions is how practical is enforcement?

The bill stipulates that ISPs (internet service providers) would have to present Ofcom with the details of their service users who engage in file-sharing, after which, that person would first have their internet connection speed severely reduced if not temporarily suspended, in an attempt to curb their net browsing, then, the person could be brought before a court or made to pay a hefty fine or both. The problem there is an ISP never represents one person, it typically represents a space and that space, such as a house, a business, a library, a school or even a university dorm, so in theory, a whole family could have their internet speed reduced to a snail’ pace thanks to the activities of one – justice, really?

Broadband provider TalkTalk were quite forthcoming with their stance, insisting that they would refuse to play ball and handover information on their service users without a court order. It was a convincing display of courage and resolve at the time but in hindsight, it was as ignorant as it was predictable, for if it becomes law, a court order would be issued post haste, throwing their allegiance to their users into the spheres of farcical or candour.

The sad thing about this whole debacle is that it was a unique opportunity to engage the younger, more apathetic end of the electorate, as it is an issue that affects them directly, for which they hold multiple opinions. Instead, the opportunity was squandered and the bill was rushed through its final reading in the Commons with little to no debate from MPs and Lords with very limited insight into the ideals of file sharing and the digital realm as a whole. 

Even sadder, is the fact that it was back-doored days after distracting the public with the announcement of an election; it’s just that this is the worst, most corruptible example of protectionism. In order to save the thrones for those at the heads of media organisations everywhere, the government proposed and legitimised a bill that panders to their every demand. Over the next few months, News Corp will charge for their online content, which means any article featured in any of their publications will no longer be indexed in Google searches. While this is understandable, what this bill does is say to other online companies, that subscription for your content is dandy. How long before a number of other news outlets follow? For that matter, how long before there is a fee, regardless of size, to read blogs, to join forums? Of course that is an extreme walk in the mind of me; nevertheless, this bill does set the precedent for all manner of things to take place.

Art I like (2)

His finger work is dandy!

Art I like (1)

This particular piece of music had my mind in a blender for several days.

Jake.

On the third floor of a secondary school, somewhere in North London, an 11 year old student and a teacher engage in conversation while designing a chocolate bar and it's wrapping:

Him: These people sir, with their organic foods, they're crazy!

Me: Crazy?

Him: Yes! There is no such thing as organic, I wish they would do the science on the situation.

Me: (smiling on the inside) Come on Jake. Such a bold statement warrants explanation.

Him: Ok, well in Science class, our teacher was talking about pesticides...

Me...yes...

Him:...well basically, they are necessary.

Me: (the cynic in me is now smiling) How did you come to that conclusion?

Him: Well, without pesticides, half the world would be dead due to food poisoning. Pesticides allow us to grow food without having to worry about infections or diseases. If we followed the organic regime and let nature take it's course, many crops would be poisoned.

Me: I agree. 

HIm: You do?!

Me: Yes. It's the same thing with GM food.

Him: YES SIR!!

Me: I mean, we all say it's bad, a failing of the modern world, when really, GM foods are the only way to ensure that everybody eats. If it were left to nature and the Organic Parade, most of us would die of scurvy or worse. A GM meal may be the only meal available to some, so who are we to knock it?

Him: I totally agree Sir. I wish people read more Science.

Me: Stay curious Jake, the world needs inquisitive minds.

Three things I learnt about my city today

1) The Kings Place Arts Centre is home to The Guardian newspaper, multiple exhibitions & a restaurant with a fantastic pianist (Sundays only I'm told) & very mediocre desserts (the pear and almond tart left me in a state of distress).

2) A spin on the DLR is an exceptional way to see the citys' disparity up close, citibank & council estate residents dwell literally avenues apart.

3) An Oyster card, a few Tangerine Dream & Vangelis mp3s, a James Bond novel & a peanut butter sandwich is kit enough for a day of brooding, strolling & novice-level photography.










..oh, and a GOOD cup of coffee is becoming harder to find thanks to visionless developers.