It might be over two years old, but until last night (as a DVD bonus feature of the awesome Werner Herzog/David Lynch collaboration, My Son, My Son What Have Ye Done), I had not seen this beautiful short film before. It stirred up a wide range of emotions in me, as it surely also will in you.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Plastic Bag
It might be over two years old, but until last night (as a DVD bonus feature of the awesome Werner Herzog/David Lynch collaboration, My Son, My Son What Have Ye Done), I had not seen this beautiful short film before. It stirred up a wide range of emotions in me, as it surely also will in you.
Monday, August 6, 2012
I Should Have Stayed in Bed
Ever have those days when, no matter how hard you try (which in itself could be the root of the problem), you either are, or feel, totally out of step with the world? When, regardless of how normally nimble, slinky, or fleet of foot you may be (and none of which I ever am), you become temporarily lummox-like in extremis? Yes, of course you have, so I hope you will sympathize that I just had one of "those" weekends.
On Friday night, when carrying our kitten Reggie from my office, I somehow managed to inexplicably walk into the corner of a wall, bashing my left forearm so hard it made me cry out.
On Saturday, we attended the Filberg Festival in Comox, where within minutes of arrival, simply by turning around after taking a photograph, I managed to trash a jewellery display when stumbling into it. Fortunately, it was a simple set-up of an easel holding the vendor's sign, with a few choice pieces draped about it, but my demolition job still caused a degree of mirth among observers, and a red face for me and my exasperated wife.
A short time after the near destruction of the jeweller's stall, I'd just glugged down a much-needed cold lime drink when the plastic 32-ounce cup that had held it, and its lid, conspired against me, the cup plummeting to the table, sending a ton of ice cubes scattering all over the place. Cue second flushed face of the day, especially having involuntarily shouted, "Oh, bollocks!"
Somehow we got home without further mishap, but later that night I scared myself half to death when thinking there was a large, shiny, black beetle crawling across the living room floor from somewhere near my feet. But, no, it was not a beetle. It was in fact the top of the wiggly-worm-on-a-stick cat toy that I was holding and waving about to amuse Reggie. It appears from this episode that I may have a problem with my nerves, but then after the catalogue of idiocy that preceded it, that should come as no surprise.
Then, last night, after a remarkably incident-free day, how I managed to shut my head in the coat cupboard door is anybody's guess. But shut my head in the coat cupboard door, doing my very best to crush my right eye socket, is exactly what I did. A bruise rose up immediately, competing with my loud resigned sighs for attention.
Really, I should have stayed in bed from Friday to Sunday. But I guess had I done so I'd have probably fallen out and crashed right through the floor into the bedroom of our neighbours below, or something equally ludicrous.
On Friday night, when carrying our kitten Reggie from my office, I somehow managed to inexplicably walk into the corner of a wall, bashing my left forearm so hard it made me cry out.
On Saturday, we attended the Filberg Festival in Comox, where within minutes of arrival, simply by turning around after taking a photograph, I managed to trash a jewellery display when stumbling into it. Fortunately, it was a simple set-up of an easel holding the vendor's sign, with a few choice pieces draped about it, but my demolition job still caused a degree of mirth among observers, and a red face for me and my exasperated wife.
A short time after the near destruction of the jeweller's stall, I'd just glugged down a much-needed cold lime drink when the plastic 32-ounce cup that had held it, and its lid, conspired against me, the cup plummeting to the table, sending a ton of ice cubes scattering all over the place. Cue second flushed face of the day, especially having involuntarily shouted, "Oh, bollocks!"
Somehow we got home without further mishap, but later that night I scared myself half to death when thinking there was a large, shiny, black beetle crawling across the living room floor from somewhere near my feet. But, no, it was not a beetle. It was in fact the top of the wiggly-worm-on-a-stick cat toy that I was holding and waving about to amuse Reggie. It appears from this episode that I may have a problem with my nerves, but then after the catalogue of idiocy that preceded it, that should come as no surprise.
Then, last night, after a remarkably incident-free day, how I managed to shut my head in the coat cupboard door is anybody's guess. But shut my head in the coat cupboard door, doing my very best to crush my right eye socket, is exactly what I did. A bruise rose up immediately, competing with my loud resigned sighs for attention.
Really, I should have stayed in bed from Friday to Sunday. But I guess had I done so I'd have probably fallen out and crashed right through the floor into the bedroom of our neighbours below, or something equally ludicrous.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Rotten to the Core
Just moments ago I read a "breaking news" headline on the BBC website and feel compelled to share it with (all twelve of) you:
"APPLE'S $8.8bn PROFITS DISAPPOINT"
The opening line of the story reads:
"Apple made a net profit of $8.8bn in the three months ending in June, up 21% from a year earlier but lower than forecasts."
So, are you, like me, utterly heartbroken at Apple's declining fortunes? After all, the company made only $8.8bn profit in three months, the poor things. What a terrible letdown. Shame on you, Apple, for making such a tiny profit.
Having generated a mere 21% increase on the same period last year, how in heaven's name can the company survive? How will they put food on the table, clothe themselves or send their kids to school? They're all doomed! Oh my God, the sky is falling!!
Obscene. Truly, utterly, sickeningly obscene.
"APPLE'S $8.8bn PROFITS DISAPPOINT"
The opening line of the story reads:
"Apple made a net profit of $8.8bn in the three months ending in June, up 21% from a year earlier but lower than forecasts."
So, are you, like me, utterly heartbroken at Apple's declining fortunes? After all, the company made only $8.8bn profit in three months, the poor things. What a terrible letdown. Shame on you, Apple, for making such a tiny profit.
Having generated a mere 21% increase on the same period last year, how in heaven's name can the company survive? How will they put food on the table, clothe themselves or send their kids to school? They're all doomed! Oh my God, the sky is falling!!
Obscene. Truly, utterly, sickeningly obscene.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Inchworms
Having spent several transfixed minutes watching an inchworm traverse our Mayne Island cabin picnic table on June 23, I just love this silly little clip of film. Could the original poster to YouTube have chosen any better music to accompany these images? I think not.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Henry & Larry
A few Black Flag tunes excepted I've never been a fan of much of his music, but I have a lot of time for Henry Rollins, the man. I can say hand on heart that since witnessing one of his extraordinary spoken word shows in Nanaimo in 2009 - at which he entertainingly spoke solidly for over three hours, taking just one sip of water after two - I have changed my way of thinking about topics he covered that evening. In a positive, productive way, that is, making tweaks to my life in how I regard, speak to and treat people. I am obviously not the first or last to be inspired by Rollins' street philosophy and punk ethics, but do genuinely draw great strength and inspiration from his worldview. As Gandhi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world," and as a result of Rollins' philosophies I am trying to be just that, at least as best as I can.
This delightful short film nicely illustrates how Rollins is simply a man from a humble background who appreciates the value of opportunity and the platform he has worked hard to create in order to effect change. If you are somehow new to this great man, I feel confident you will really, really like him. If you like and understand him already, just enjoy.
While on the subject of punk rock, I simply must mention the astonishing Larry & His Flask. I've blogged about this fantastic punk-bluegrass outfit before, so won't go too deeply into it here, but after having seen them play for the second time last night, as part of the Victoria Ska Festival, I cannot let this blog posting pass without saying that, at all costs, go see a Larry & His Flask show at your earliest opportunity! There is just nothing to compare with the incendiary live show they present, and the sense of unity they create with their audience is as inspirational as the man in the film above. The photo you see here is one tiny moment from the incredible hour-long performance we were privileged to be party to last night ('party' being the operative word), and just under 24 hours later the adrenaline it whipped up is still pumping!
Monday, July 9, 2012
Rounder Records R.I.P.
I am deeply saddened to have received the news this morning that legendary Brighton, UK, music store, Rounder Records, is going out of business. The store's press release reads thus:
It is with huge regret and sadness that we are closing down. We will shut our doors at 6pm on Sunday 29th July after 46 years of being a record shop in Brighton Square.
What we have always strived to do is stock the best range of music at the best prices for our customers; sadly, that is not enough for us to stay open.
We are closing because we can't make it add up any more. We are a business that has been decimated by downloads (both legal and illegal), VAT avoidance by the big online retailers, a double-dip recession and the decline of the high street. Our lease has ended and we have nowhere to go.
We would like to give heartfelt thanks to all our customers over the years, and hope we have managed to provide you with some special and great music throughout this time. That's why we have been here - as a place to obtain, hear, find out about and discuss all types of the weird and wonderful world of music; to be a social hub for a musical city; a place where future bands are born; where record labels are started; where local bands can stock their first release; where you can get tickets for gigs; where there's something playing on the shop stereo that might be your new favourite band. Sadly, in 2012, this is just not financially viable.
I worked at Rounder Records for seven fun-filled years, when the music industry was wonderfully unrecognizable from the wheezing, skeletal, sorry creature it is today; when the thought of music "lovers" storing their entire collection on something resembling a credit card was the stuff of science fiction; when lyric booklets were pored over and even the smell of the sleeves was obsessed over; when the value of the record store as the aforementioned social hub and catalyst for the creation of bands and record labels was immeasurable to the music community.
Goodness me, how times have changed. I for one view the terminal decline of bricks and mortar music (and books) retailing as a cultural apocalypse that Generation Z will recognize as such when it's too late. And when they cry, "Shit, what have we done?" I'll be one of the first to yell back, "Well, we told you so."
Gawd bless you, Rounder Records.
It is with huge regret and sadness that we are closing down. We will shut our doors at 6pm on Sunday 29th July after 46 years of being a record shop in Brighton Square.
What we have always strived to do is stock the best range of music at the best prices for our customers; sadly, that is not enough for us to stay open.
We are closing because we can't make it add up any more. We are a business that has been decimated by downloads (both legal and illegal), VAT avoidance by the big online retailers, a double-dip recession and the decline of the high street. Our lease has ended and we have nowhere to go.
We would like to give heartfelt thanks to all our customers over the years, and hope we have managed to provide you with some special and great music throughout this time. That's why we have been here - as a place to obtain, hear, find out about and discuss all types of the weird and wonderful world of music; to be a social hub for a musical city; a place where future bands are born; where record labels are started; where local bands can stock their first release; where you can get tickets for gigs; where there's something playing on the shop stereo that might be your new favourite band. Sadly, in 2012, this is just not financially viable.
I worked at Rounder Records for seven fun-filled years, when the music industry was wonderfully unrecognizable from the wheezing, skeletal, sorry creature it is today; when the thought of music "lovers" storing their entire collection on something resembling a credit card was the stuff of science fiction; when lyric booklets were pored over and even the smell of the sleeves was obsessed over; when the value of the record store as the aforementioned social hub and catalyst for the creation of bands and record labels was immeasurable to the music community.
Goodness me, how times have changed. I for one view the terminal decline of bricks and mortar music (and books) retailing as a cultural apocalypse that Generation Z will recognize as such when it's too late. And when they cry, "Shit, what have we done?" I'll be one of the first to yell back, "Well, we told you so."
Gawd bless you, Rounder Records.
Monday, June 4, 2012
The NHL's Most Loveable Goalie
Hockey fans will recognize the guy in the photo above, but for those not interested in the sport it is Tim Thomas, a goaltender with the Boston Bruins. As a Vancouver Canucks fan it's difficult to look upon his smugly smiling visage, as he is one irritating reason the Bruins took the Stanley Cup over my team in seven games last year. Unfortunately, he's an excellent keeper who not only raised the cup in 2011, but also won the Conn Smythe Trophy for Most Valuable Player of the playoffs, and the Vezina Trophy for the NHL's best keeper last season. As much as I consider him the enemy, then, I must acknowldge his skill, especially when it mattered.
However, beyond the uniform he wears, another reason to dislike him has arrived in the form of his decision to "sit out" next season. He announced on F***book on Sunday that he will take the year off in order to spend more time reconnecting with "family, friends and faith." Now, I cannot knock the fact he wants to devote more time and energy to these areas of his life, but the other side of the story is that he is still contracted to the Boston Bruins. Although he will not get paid for his leave of absence - and rightly so - the rules of the NHL salary cap and his own contract mean that his team, i.e. his employer, will have $5 million less (being Thomas' salary for the 2012-13 season) that they can spend on wages. That could bag them a couple of quality players to add to their roster, but because of Thomas' actions they are strapped to do so.
How incredibly selfish it is to leave his team on the financial hook like this. At age 38, why doesn't he simply do the decent thing and retire? If he so desired he could always come out of retirement (if, after this, any team wanted him) after his year's sabbatical, but no, he expects to come back and play again after his time off! What an ego!
How lovely it would be, would it not, if you or I could march into our boss' office and say, "Sorry, but I don't think I want to work next year, so I'm taking it off. You don't mind do you?" But you and I live in the real world, one where I have been unable to take a proper holiday for nine years.
Thomas should realize that no one man is above a team, that he has an obligation to his employers (and fans and team-mates) within the terms of a contract, and that because of him his team will be financially hindered to the tune of $5 million - which, let's face it anyway, is an obscene amount of money to be paid for what he does in the first place. Not that he cares, I'm sure, as he certainly won't go without during his year-long holiday
I for one hope this break means we've seen the back of this prima donna, a classic example of why the players hold way too much sway in the sport I love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)