Wallace Town

Captain Beefheart

2010-12-18T08:06:00.002Z

The track that got me hooked on Beefheart, who died yesterday.

Seemingly Beefheart's vocal performance on this track destroyed a $1200 Telefunken microphone. Hank Cicalo, engineer for the sessions, reported that Beefheart's voice wouldn't track at certain points and athough a number of microphones were used, none of them could stand the "EEEE-Lec-Triccc-ittt-EEEEEEEE" of the last chorus.

Which Corrs For Ireland?

2010-11-25T16:06:00.006Z

Probably not the most appropriate time for punning, such is the situation that Ireland faces, but clearly Ireland is at a crossroads now and it has to be hoped that the course taken isn't one that sees generations of people paying for the Irish elites mistakes and greed.

It's bizarre for those of us away from Ireland, to watch this madness unfurl so quickly and it's made all the more surreal by videos such as this heartfelt, albeit wonky, plea from the man who ironically (given the rate of emigration) wrote one of The Corrs' most popular tunes - 'Runaway'.

It's a unsettling thought that if nothing is done now; if the Irish people don't take to the streets, and at least attempt to take back the state, but instead stay in and watch fluff TV or just shrug their shoulders and talk about the good old days when Charlie boy ran things; then future generations, crippled by debt, high taxes and unemployment, will one day stumble upon this video and wonder why their parents hadn't bothered to act on at least some of the stuff this fluffy balladeer proposes.

Postscript:

I'm not saying he's wrong about the need for peaceful protest, but it would seem that Jim's call for wholesale debt write-offs may have something to do with his own iffy property dealings here. Shame, I thought Jim had something of the Dev about him, there's still a chance Ronan Keating may make a bid for the greasy pole....

Adrian Chiles Part 2

2010-10-15T10:02:00.006+01:00

It's a personal tragedy - the multi-million pound move of Chiles to ITV has bombed. 'Daybreak' the replacement show for GMTV otherwise known as 'Dawn of the Dead', is haemorrhaging viewers. Speculation is that this is primarily because Chiles isn't enough of a draw for the ladies, even though he's tried his best by being snapped in his bestest jeans on a big penilemobile, but it just hasn't worked and things are so bad that William Hill have offered odds of 4/1 that ITV will dispense with Chiles' services before Christmas. They're also offering 10/1 that Roland Rat takes over which just highlights the vacuum that is Chiles' sex appeal. For me this is a tragedy as I'd hoped to offload all my wretched self-loathing onto Chiles for a lot longer than this, but I can't kick a manchild when he's down.

Instead I will target his manchild wing man Michael McIntyre who is apparently about to release an autobiography entitled 'Life & Laughing: My Story', which I found out whilst gamely leafing through Mondays Sun. This article opens with the line 'MICHAEL McINTYRE is staring at a blank space.' How apt! Never have I witnessed comedy that so entirely inhabits the void, clearly this 'blank space' is where McIntyre's draws all his comedy from and it's a well that will never run dry, since the entire act is an illusion - there is no content just a sycophant moving around the stage really quickly, whilst cackling at a fly that appears to hover near to his mouth.

How has this man seduced an entire nation and when will see the return of real standups like Bobby Chariot?

Adrian Chiles - Part 1

2010-07-21T08:26:00.003+01:00

For those of you who don't know Adrian Chiles - he's the man who has carved a BBC career out of being the chubby Brummie next door. A man so devoid of charisma that he made Gareth Southgate look edgy during the 2010 ITV World Cup coverage.

Chiles is soon to be the face of GMTV having made a multi-million pound move to ITV so that he can ingratiate himself amongst an even larger section of the brain dead British pubic who frankly deserve him.

I had a dream last night that he teamed up with my new hate list contender James Corden to work on a charitay cover of Olivia Newton John's 'Lets Get Physical'. During the video shoot a prop mishap ends Chiles' career as he is accidentally crushed under Corden's gigantic smugnity. It could be that this dream carries with it a scary glimpse into the future of British TV, but who knows and quite frankly who gives a crap? Me! I do.

I know I'm bitter about something that sounds incredibly trivial - 'Hey Chilesy is all right, he's a refreshing change with his brummie accent and everyman footy talk' - well f**k that shit. Chiles is not an everyman he's a cynical calculating leech on the numb backside of the glorious British public, who uses his crushed Cabbage Patch Kid face to dupe us into lending him gardening tools and DIY manuals, only to see them on Ebay a week later.

I'm not alone... There are others who think the same as me...resist, fight, don't let him alone with your family.

The HBO show that is 'Treme' and Steve Zahns lips

2010-07-20T14:25:00.010+01:00

I'm late to the party as usual, but this week I have been watching Treme which wound up in the US on June 20th.

I have enjoyed it so far, but it's not The Wire. There's plenty of great things about the show. Simon and Overmyer have created some memorable characters, but their involvement with and understanding of these characters seems less well formed - and New Orleans often feels like the back drop to a long music video made by some out of towners who got the 'off-grid' tour of the city and wanted to pay homage to it.

The characters are as you'd expect interesting, varied and apparently draw on 'real life' people that the writers met before and during shooting the programme. However one or two have annoyed me, particularly the character of Davis played by Steve Zahn . Davis really shouldn't annoy me the character should work as an excellent foil for the serious shee-it that's going on in New Orleans post-hurricane Katrina, but Davis fails where Ziggy from The Wire succeeded and this is in equal parts down to the acting and the script. Steve Zahn has huge scope to develop his character into something beyond the gurning clown he portrays - he presumably had plenty of solid material to prepare with since the Davis character is based on the irritating and feckless talent that is WWOZ DJ Davis Rogan - (check out his Myspace page - Zahn definitely gets the weak arsed vocals spot on). Despite this and getting some of the best dialogue in the show Davis still grates on me - I want to love him the way I loved Ziggy but I can't, the script lets him down with moments like the smug 'revelation' that follows when he wakes up on the couch of his Gay neighbours or the ham handed scene where we see him and his mates record his election anthem like a scene out of Fame. There's that and the fact that Zahn has one of the most annoying mouths in show business something he shares with his evil doppelgänger Robin Williams, whose lips reportedly became so thin that they were absorbed back into his body. Who knows though - since the next season of Treme has been commissioned, Davis may become less prominent or be developed in the same way that some characters in the Wire were.

Anyway despite Zahn's lips there's a lot to like about Treme. The music is great. Wendell Pierce's Antoine Batiste is fully formed and for a man who apparently never played the trombone he really looks like he can play. This attention to musical detail occurs throughout the show thus avoiding one of the most shameful aspects of TV or Film where actors display a complete lack of musical talent whilst attempting to portray musical talent (see Jimmy Nail and Co. in 'Still Crazy'). The use of cameo appearances from famous ,usicians such as Dr John and McCoy Tyner was worrying at first but in the main I think it works - although I could have done without seeing Elvis Costello mugging alongside the constant gurn of Zahn. The stories weave well within each other and are interesting and often taut - even the hackneyed storyline of the deadbeat Dutchman and his talented girlfriend has had me talking to the screen at times.

So two episodes left to go and maybe I will still learn to love Davis the way I know some people do, but it's doubtful - what's more likely is that I'll continue to see Robin Williams mugging for a laugh but not really knowing why. It's worth it though, Treme like it's antecedents, still tells a powerful story, it is well played and has the potential to evolve into something sharper and complex thereby helping to fill that gaping hole that The Wire left.

bACKBONE

2010-06-28T13:43:00.008+01:00

There was a moment when I got excited about England's world cup, and it wasn't Upson's goal, or Lampard's for that matter, it was when John Terry actually spoke up at a press conference and indicated that he and other members of the team were upset with the way the team was being managed. Regardless of whether Terry was right to say what he said; for the briefest of moments I thought there's a man with some backbone, there's an English player who is passionate enough about playing for England that he's prepared to put his career on the line... but no.....all too quickly it was apparent that John Terry was nothing more than a hot head, who lacked the courage to follow through and front up to his adversary.

Yesterdays match against Germany was the collective equivalent of Terry's impotent toy throwing. We couldn't front up and were beaten within minutes and as the self-belief and resolve crumbled away it revealed some of the most pampered and well paid men in world football - playing like a half-cut Sunday league team.

Talking of the overpaid and gutless ... the best thing to come out of this world cup is that Adrian Chiles has overtaken Tony Robinson as my most loathed Celebritay.... I might finally have something to write about.

21st Century Wallace

2009-12-29T09:59:00.004Z

A couple of days ago I watched the Back To The Future trilogy (go on raise that highbrow eyebrow) in part 2/3 we see Robert Zemeckis' techno-utilitarian vision of the the year 2015; full of hover boards, smart coats and Black&Decker rehydration units. Though Zemeckis got it wrong on the technology front he got it right in terms of the human dimension - the basic idea being that people are as stupid in 1885 as they are in 2015.

We're almost 10 years into the 21st Century and the snapshot from the Yahoo search engine says it all. We have at our fingertips a form of technology far more powerful than food rehydration, something that could potentially transform our lives, yet most of us are content with reading about celebrities and train times (?) - perhaps worse of all, still watching drivel from the late 1980's...

Tony on Earth

2009-12-17T09:58:00.005Z

I've just watched the first part of the Channel 4 - 'Man on Earth' documentary (yeah that's right it's Mans earth woman). Probably it's my age, but why are documentaries nowadays like something the Wachowski brothers would make after consuming speedballs and yellow bentines?

I thought it was rubbish, mainly because I loathe the televisual canker that is Tony Robinson and cannot for the life of me understand why he is still considered a 'draw' for TV. This would have been a reasonably interesting documentary without the 80's synths, symbol clashes, stop-motion plant growth, looming cityscapes and smiling black kids and I'm still trying to fathom why they chose to use two eye candy academics resembling Lara Croft and Ben Fogle (that toff who made a career out of raised collars and patronising poor people).

Highlights of episode 1:

We are told Tony is travelling 900 miles to Dar es Salaam only to see shots of him driving aimlessly around some scrubland - 'no roads in Africa by jove!'

He stands next to a replica Neanderthal and says "as you can see there is a big difference between the way Neanderthals would have looked compared to a 'normal' human like me...not a trace of irony - what's normal about Baldrick?

Hal An Tow

2009-11-03T08:43:00.002Z

Totally inappropriate time of the year to be posting this song, but now that the clocks have gone back and the winter chill is here.....well.

Winter Warmer

2009-10-24T15:35:00.003+01:00

It's getting nippy down here - and we've just burnt the last of a rough load we bought off a dodgy farmer when we didn't know any better. Today we took delivery of a great load of wood, which won't all fit in the shed. It's mainly ash which will burn as soon as it's cut - as the poem goes:

But ash logs,
all smooth and grey,
Burn them green or old;
Buy up all that come your way,
They're worth their weight in gold.

At the moment wood is our only fuel source whilst we live in this cottage and long may it continue. We have two stoves - this large one pictured takes care of the entire central heating (3 bed semi). I estimate if we were to heat the house every night for a month, it would cost us about 50 quid. So about 500 quid in a year factoring in summers and nights away. This compared to about 800 quid for a gas boiler and probably whole lot more for an oil one. A few other pluses are that wood is pretty much carbon neutral, smells nice, and makes a home cosey, plus you can use some of the wood ash on your garden.

I know this isn't a very exciting post - doubtless this is a symptom of married life; soon I'll be writing about conservatories and fun days out at Clarks, shopping for the kids. However whilst I was stacking the wood this morning, I felt a little shiver course through me knowing that the wood I handled was part of an ancient system that's kept us warm for many millennia and probably will for a long time from now.

On the subject of central heating (cough), I read the other day that the average household temperature in the UK was about 15 degrees, since then it has risen to around the 22/23 mark - this, when the world is getting warmer - what's that about....bunch of Nancys!

Nobels Oblige

2009-10-09T13:18:00.006+01:00

Shock news! The scandos love Obama too.

I know I backed him during the horse race - but I had a bit of money on him + he's got a nice smile and he wasn't born on a ranch...but this just takes the piss.

Woo Woo Ha Ha!

2009-08-04T17:07:00.003+01:00

And the whole world has to answer right now

2009-06-26T17:59:00.007+01:00

What annoys me most about Jackson dying is the fact that over his career he accumulated thousands of mentally unstable fans just like Elvis did. Mystery is bound to shroud some part of Jacksons death and slowly there will be a trickle of sightings and eventually we will end up with bad Michael Jackson impersonators and wacko evenings in bars with drunken middle aged men and women trying to remember the lyrics to 'Bad'.

Chewy

2009-06-21T10:23:00.004+01:00

There is something profound and yet deeply disturbing in this picture....

15 Storys High

2009-06-12T20:28:00.003+01:00

I may be repeating myself here, so apologies. I met Sean Lock on a number of occasions as he trained at the same New Cross Karate Club as I did back in the mid-90's. I can't say that I remember him being particularly funny, just quick witted and a bit shy. doubtless like any good comedian he was absorbing future material and there must have been a huge amount of it at the club. I don't think I'd feature as a character but there was:

Bob - Black belt amphetamines user, with anger issues
Davva - Welsh rugby player/vigilante
'Melon' - Mute with a strained ball bag which had blown up to the size of a ....
Akayo - Nigerian giant who modelled himself on Kareem Abdul Jabar out of Game of Death - Here he is in action. By the way this gets better as the sound goes further out of synch.

Donut

2009-06-02T23:18:00.004+01:00

Beautiful isn't it? No not Bristol Park and Ride. The large ring of lard that looks like it's going to do damage to some poor girls cranium.

Yes - I have been over indulging again. Those of you who know me, will ask "So! What's new Wallace, you've always been a porker", and you'd be right to - I've over-indulged all my adult life and a good part of my teen years to boot...

Tonight I sat in a meeting looking at the future of farming in this country and whilst it was very interesting, the most salient point made was that overindulgence is actually not only harmful to me but also the environment. Food is energy, but nearly all the food we eat today has been grown in a way that is heavily energy dependent; so the more crap I eat the more energy I am responsible for using (directly and indirectly). I sat in the room, possibly one of the most lardy men there and it finally dawned on me, that all my efforts at saving electricity and fuel are pointless unless I additionally make a fundamental change to the way I consume food.

Bastard Irony, then decided to shit on me from a great height as my number was drawn from the raffle and I won a huge hamper of food.

Open Source Wallace

2009-03-29T02:16:00.007+01:00

Many of you reading this are using the open source Firefox web browser and are exploring the internet like young teenage lovers full of excitement and youthful vigour. However some of you are still sat in the back of old Uncle Bill's Ford Mondeo using his gas guzzling and decrepit 'Explorer'. To you I say- break free - feel the wind in your hair and shake off the shackles of the corporate stranglehold - it's so easy, will save you cash and guarantee you are down with the kids.

Up until we came back from travelling I had been running a copy of MS Office a friend had given me, but thanks to the joy that is the Vista OS and it's constant patches (perhaps a leaking ship analogy would have been better), it now won't work. I had 3 choices: buy a new Vista friendly version, download an illegal copy with potential viruses, trojans and other nasties or the third and easiest choice: download a copy of OpenOffice - yet another Open Source package that does everything that MS Office does but it's free. Not only that but because it is open source it's constantly being updated and made better - just like Firefox and VLC (definitely the best media player out there).

Anyway this is probably a bit boring for some of you - but for me open source is exciting - it gives people the opportunity to share, work together and move the cyber world away from the Mondeo driving nonsense of the past.

Land of the free - part 2

2009-03-02T13:53:00.005Z

Just a quick update on the previous post. Gem and I were in Washington DC and attended a concert at the Library of Congress.....I'd love to say there were Senators and Congressmen there but in fact this was a run of the mill event and the audience was made up primarily by men and women in frightful knitwear. The music was great, and watching DC's middle-aged wobble about was great fun, however the highlight for me was several trips I made to the libraries many toilets.

We were in the Thomas Jefferson building, which was built in 1897 and they certainly knew how to take a leak back then. I counted 7 pissers in a row and imagined all the great political discussions spilling out of the Library's nooks and into the broad ceramic beauty of its many toilets (manufactured made by American Standard). I stayed there for quite some time and indeed listened to some chit chat across the urinals (pronounced You-rin-alls; thanks Dan). It was heartening to think that there on Capitol Hill, there has always been the opportunity to forge the common bond, but in recent days I've started to wonder what kind of toilets the Obama administration will favour. I imagine Bush had a potty and several large men to tell him when to go and to clean him up after, but I get the impression Obama seems more the type to tell you he's going to the bog with you, only to sneak off to take a sit down piss in a cubicle, whilst talking to himself.

However this is all conjecture - just pissing into the wind.

Land of the free....pictorial theme continued

2009-02-24T17:49:00.006Z

America is a very fine place to be if you are white, male, in possession of money and have a sturdy bladder. However if , like me, your bladder occupies most of your waking and sleeping hours you'd best forget living here and go home - back to the stinking miles of beautiful ceramic pissers and the acres of rattling shit caked chipboard. Yes,
I truly miss the freedom to urinate without waiting (anybody that suggests a catheter, can piss off.....ha).

Needless to say I had high expectations of American public toilets, but they have failed every time. Sure they're clean, warm, and fragrant, but every bar I have been to has only ever provided one room and this, in places that sell ale by the pint or 16oz whatever that means. How can you sell that much liquid repeatedly and not make adequate provision for its bodily ejection? It's crazy but the problem doesn't stop there, the 'mono-stall' also means the toileting experience lacks something else and that's....community. I miss the banter, the gas, the stray splash, the many variations of the standing waggle, this common experience is an essential part of what unites us peoples of 'The Isles'. We don't need banners, flag pins and hands on hearts to forge that common bond, we just need a smelly room and the chance to stand (or sit) and share our relief. God bless our United Toilets.

His 'n' Hers

2009-01-19T20:36:00.006Z

Two days ago, Gemma agreed to marry me. I am not noted for my great communication skills so it was always going to be difficult - but thankfully Gem has known me long enough to work out what the grunts and gurning actually meant.

It is something of a U-turn I´ll admit. Both of us still feel the great institution to befairly unneccessary for the likes of us heathens. Nowadays marriage seems more of an excuse to waggle your mickey at people (you have to pity the burning bum holes of those South African miners who gamely deliver those essential rocks to make whitey´s big day so special). However there are some positives to be had from this wedding business: The tax man isn´t so greedy, the future kids don´t get called bastard in the playground, we both get to wear nice dresses and dance robot for the first dance, the gift list will stipulate electronic gadgets, camping gear and flower presses (something for the wife) ....oh and the big one that we get to bring together our friends and family and have a big sing song.

I am Superman

2009-01-16T15:31:00.005Z

In about 6 weeks Gem and I will attempt to gain entry to the United States of America. For many years I have wanted to visit and nestle in the homely bingo wings of the great empire. However recent reports suggest that gaining access to these comforts may not be so easy. Recently a friend from Ireland travellingto the US was verbally battered for attempting to ask a security guard where the nearest ATM was. "Do not approach me sir" was the curt reply, but since no approach had been made said friend innocently repeated the question, the scripted response was also repeated but with increasing with venom: "DO NOT APPROACH ME SIR"! This lost in translation moment continued for some time until the security official began to tap his revolver´s safety whilst steadfastly sticking to the script: "DO NOT APPROACH ME SIR", fortunately for all concerned another official recognised the standoff and diffused the situation. However for some unfortunates the experience at US customs is always going to be a nightmare:

Customs Official : 'May I know your name sir?'

Passenger : 'Batman'

Customs Official : 'What is your name!?'

Passenger : 'My name is Bat-man'

Customs Official : 'Trying to be funny? What's your surname?'

Passenger : 'Super-man'

Customs Official : 'So you're telling me your name is Batman Superman?'

Passenger : 'Yes'

Customs Official : 'Arrest this guy...

When they had him in custody, he was asked to show his identification card:

The Bag of Douche

2009-01-09T17:52:00.004Z

Two nights ago I went to a bar, and I´ll be honest it´s a bit of a gringo hang out, but it´s nice cos even though a few of the pseudos find it, the owners are nice and the homebrew is tasty. So I went there to meet Steve – (´The Zen Surfer ´) and when I arrive he´s stood next to this guy, who´s wearing a mixture of Northface camping jacket and trousers, combined with ethnic scarf, bracelets and hat and topped off by wrap around dark glasses. As I approach the bar I see the guy relax back in his chair and announce to the lovely barmaid: “Well you know Betty everyday is a gift, that´s why they call it the present”. I double take, the jaw drops and I feel a howl pushing it´s way up from the bottom of my gut. I look to Betty who has disappeared behind the bar, apparently looking for something…I´m think I can hear sniggering , but maybe she´s just overwhelmed by the profound nature of his observation. I turn to Steve, who´s eyes have already glazed over…I hear the silence fill my head, a void opens up before us and we are then forced to listen to it announce many more philosophical gems until he happens upon two very stoned Swedes who have the requisite amount of English with which to ignore him. Thank god for the Swedes, Steve and I retreat to another corner of the bar and watch him for the remainder of the night.

The following day I tell Neil and Kim of my encounter, I see doubt on their faces, surely no one could be that much of an arse and yet by lunchtime they returned with the same gob smacked look that I had worn the previous day. Their quiet lunchtime drink had gone from bad to worse for them, starting with his opening gambit: “I´m good friends with Tom Selleck”, right up to the final barrage of his conversational arsenal - Israeli foreign policy is right on the money….

A legend was born and he shall be known as The Bag of Douche.

Hateful Wallace

2009-01-05T22:59:00.003Z

There are many places like San Pedro around the world. They started off as small peaceful havens and a few well meaning travellers went there and relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. After word of mouth spread it became more popular well meaning types continued to go, but more provision had to be made for them and a few people both local and blow-in began to see opportunities to make money. Eventually the local industry was playing second fiddle to tourism, the place lost it’s original appeal and became replaced by other attractions. In this instance and in many others it is Marijuana. San Pedro is in a beautiful location looking over one of the largest lakes in Central America; however the town has been sullied by an influx of travellers who want to get high.

I shouldn’t have gone there. It’s plain that the reactionary is growing in me more and more. I watched lots of scantily clad westerners draped in ethnic gear strolling around the little village, trying to ´outhippy´ the guy next to him (in this case me) and I took offence. For the main part of my stay I counted how many westerners I could see draped in the traditional clothing worn by Guatemalans. The bile in me continued to surface until the morning of my departure when I began to reflect on why it was I had a problem with these types. At the end of the day, they have every right to dress how they will, they’re not doing anyone any real harm, in fact it has been pointed out to me that buying a caftan might actually help support the local economy. So I accept the problem is solely my own.

Today I watched coverage of Israel’s invasion of Palestinian territory and remembered a conversation I had some 13 years ago whilst driving towards Haifa. My boss an Israeli farmer claimed that the conflict with Palestine would never be resolved. We passed a peaceful Palestinian protest and though he was initially dumbfounded, his hatred continued to flow from him and it began to dawn on me that the Israelis would always need to need to demonise their Arab neighbours, it helps to solidify their position both internally and externally. Today I walked passed a long haired American in ethnic garb and decided to say hello, he smiled back beatifically, and I felt return that familar desire to mock.

This will take time.

NO!

2008-12-26T00:39:00.001Z

This is yet another reason why the riots in Greece must spread across the continent and purge the world of the mediocrity that pollutes this lovely world. HERE

Gay Rap in Lillywhites

2008-12-22T19:19:00.006Z

Interesting article here on Rap and homophobia. I remember back in the day when me and my homeys down in the rough ghettos of Emsworth used to listen to Del La Soul, Tribe Called Quest and Diggable Planets. Above - The hard as nails garage I used to work in and hang out in, whilst litening to Schooly D.

It´s disappointing how the genre has morphed into this hate filled nonsense that plays on fear. You only have to look at Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five to know that it started out with a dose of humour, although that Bud Light tee-shirt has had me screaming in the mddle of the night.

Clueless Wallace

2008-12-19T18:56:00.003Z

I am in a park, trying to ignore this wretched cold. A thin man - the corner of his mouth encrusted with food -approaches me:

Thin Man: Where are you from?
Me: England
TM: Are you married?
Me: Yes
TM: Ohh you´re married....Do you have problems in the bed at night?
M: Pardon?
TM:Do you have sexual problems?
M: That´s a very stange question!
TM: You think so?
M: Yes. Do you have problems?
TM: Yes I have problems sometimes with my wife.
M: This is a strange conversation.
TM: Hmm hmm
M: So what are you doing now?
TM: I sell socks and underpants to shops. Do you wear underpants?
M: Excuse me?
TM: Some people don´t wear underpants.
M: No, I always where them, especially here, it´s cold.
TM: Yes it´s cold. Did you ever have a beard?
M: Yes, I used to have beard.
TM: Do you have a hairy chest?
M: What?
TM: Some men don´t have hairy chests, some do.
M:Yes, that´s true.
TM: Do you have hairy legs?
M:Not really, I think they are normal.
TM: I don´t have hair on my legs. (He shows me)
M: Hmm
TM: Do you like women that shave their legs? (He motions to his thighs)
M: I suppose so.
TM: And women who shave here? (He points to his crotch).
(By this time I´m beginning to cop on)
M: Err?
TM: Some shave there hair here (points again), do yo...
M: I have to meet a friend.........

Gripe

2008-12-18T18:33:00.002Z

I have a cold and feel like moaning - here´s some things that wind me up at the moment:

Smug tossers that parade their ethnic gear like they´re the first to wear it.
Tossers who don´t say hello to me, but then lick the boots of the Guatemalan walking behind me.
Self-important gringos who correct my bad Spanish...I Know how bad it is thanks.
People who treat me like I´m slow, just because of some nervous twitches and a propensity for inappropriate laughter when I´m nervous.
Dogs - there are about 15 dogs within a hundred yards of our house that I´d like to see castrated - the buggers breed like.. rabbits?
Bangers - who the fuck gets up at 5am to light a load of bangers - what possible purpose can it serve.
Lippy kids - ok in fairness all the children I have encountered have been very polite, but there´s bound to be some little blighters that give me lip soon enough.
Pseudo-hippy scumbags who come across like your long-lost brother and then ignore you when you propose working.
Guatemalans who want to know how much you earn and what a restaurant meal would cost. I think by now we have established the economic disparity between CA and the west, but please go ahead and make me feel a little more guilty.

Travel sickness

2008-12-12T00:38:00.006Z

Yesterday was the first time I have ever felt my body give way to something invisible... OK that´s not strictly true as there have ben a few nights drinking when I have inexplicably been unable to use my legs without a detailed explanation of the process, however yesterday´s hike was without the presence of alcohol.

Yesterday Gem and I climbed Volcan Agua which stands at 3,772 meters above sea level. I´m not a mountaineer...England has dark satanic hills .. not mills, Thatcher got rid of the last of those... so the climb was always going to be a new experience but then I discovered the additional joy that is altitude sickness.

It´s a hard sensation to describe, the first 3 hours of the climb were fine, slower than usual, but when we got to what looked like the summit we happily rounded a corner to find we were still about 3 kms from the top. Ordinarily it would have taken about another hour to climb, but I quickly began experiencing of the symptoms listed below, it took 2 hours and I´m proud to say, required me to find massive amounts of mental fortitude, something I´m not noted for. Gem was like a pack horse and despite some huge blisters, she gamely led the way. My invisble foe pushed back at me and I kept thinking about Geoff Capes, once the Worlds Srongest Man, now celebrated budgie breeder. During many competitions he complained like a little bitch and I could never understand why - he was massive and a yokel, but it wasn´t altitude sickness that Geoff suffered from - just a lack of backbone. Yesterday however, I sympathised with him. I looked down at my legs so many times and felt that there was superhuman strength lurking inside them but there was no way of tapping into it. I lolloped along like a drunken mime artist and eventually we reached the top but to be honest I didn´t feel any sense of achievement, just an overwhelming sense of relief and then later anxiety because after 5 hours of crawling we had just 3 hours of light left to get down to base camp and a cup of hot bovril with fellow whining English explorers Michael Palin and Brian Blessed (I have seen both whinging at high altitudes on TV).

Lack of appetite, nausea, or vomiting
Fatigue or weakness
Dizziness or light-headedness
Pins and needles
Shortness of breath upon exertion
Persistent rapid pulse
Drowsiness
General malaise

Today, the flush of success I felt post mountain, was put into perspective after a small boy and his incredibly emaciated mother approached me asking for money to buy medicine. The woman could barely walk and both looked like they had been driven to the point of desperation. I thought of my pointless staggerings up the volcano and considered all that is wrong wth travelling whilst sucking down large amounts of cake and coffee.

Xela ...you got me the runs

2008-12-02T23:18:00.003Z

As usual I have plenty to bitch about, but I´ve decided to spare you the moans..mainly because my nemesis ´the giantess´ has finally departed and I am once more able to return to my natural state of semi-stabilty. In that spirit I´ve decided to post a picture of me looking vaguely happy with Gem and our best mate - Zen Surfer Dude, one of the nicest people I´ve met in a long time and the bonus is he loves poo jokes as much as I do.

The last fews weeks in Guatemala have been a strange one, in part due to the massive misconceptions I had of the country. Guatemala is not a place caught in a timewarp or a jungle (as someone remarked recently). What I have seen so far I like greatly, it´s possible that it has something to do with the location. We are currently staying in the city of ´Xela´a place that has benefited (in part) from a reasonable influx of gringos who wish to learn Spanish. So because of a bunch of ex-pats and some enterprising Guatemalans, the place has a cosmopolitan feel whilst keeping hold of much of the traditions that make the country so fascinating.

What has really hit me has been the warmth of a people that have so much less than me. Why is it that in the poor countries I have vistied I have always recieved so much more of a warm welcome? Sure money is a factor, but the old guy who walks past me every morning, doesn´t need to give me a smile and a big ´Good Morning´. Makes a change from the grunts I used to get in Dromcollogher or the sideways glances I´d get in Brixton.

Turning to world news I´m really glad to read of an overpaid pillock ruining his career because of some sort of inferiority complex. Here - I´m still hoping smug tosser Tony Robinson might go the same way....

Didyoudoiters

2008-11-24T21:54:00.003Z

So it´s been a while. Presently Gem and I are in Guatemala. We got here earlier than expected, mainlybecause I am a tight wad and thought that it might be cheaper to live here than in Mexico, how wrong I was. The credit crunch and the central american equivalent of NAFTA has crippled the country, food prices have gone through the roof which means that the Gautemalans poor quality of life is even poorer.

We´ve all read plenty of westerners guilt regarding their own relative wealth, so I won´t bore you with that, instead I will tell you about a group of people that wreck my head almost as much as American trade agreements, these are the ´´Didyoudoer´s. The DYD´ers have a running checklist of places, countries and possibly people to ´Do´. ´Doing´ something means visiting it in as short as time as possible, ticking it off the list normally prescribed by Lonely Planet and then finding the nearest english speaker to tell them exactly what they did and then what you should do. The idea that travelling should just be a series of experiences that one catologues in order to reel off to some poor unfortunate (namely moi) is abhorrent. I truly hope that if you are one of those people - you choke on the list that drives you forward to your next fucking tick box.

Dark Emperor

2008-11-05T19:01:00.003Z

Last night, I sat in the booth of a pizza parlour surrounded by young Americans and watched as the CNN predictions came in. It was an odd experience made all the more bizarre by the in house entertainment - a bellowing Mariachi, fully amplified and winning the battle of words with the CNN team. We sat transfixed and attempted to lip read the shiney presenters and pundits. One minute, Chuck McGargle (something like that) was saying McCain could still win - the next McCain was standing slump shouldered on a dour looking stage that said ´We knew this was going to happen - why bother spending the cash´. I saw Palin briefly but it looked like she knew that her career in politics was going to be nearer to Saturday Night live than the Oval Office.

It´s a strange one this result. I think a lot of us are torn between - ´this ain´t going to change anything´ and ´this must mean something´. I am inclined to believe this does mean something. My sense is that Obama will be a pragmatic president, and perhaps help guide it towards a renewed sense of moral purpose. I really hope so. Having said that, this has come at a point in time when America has reached the arc of its power, it will be an ever waning presence internationally, but it could be that as it fades away it helps to guide those countries that take the lead.....Alternatively it might continue to spew out mindless drivel and drown in its own filth.

Dog Beats

2008-10-29T02:14:00.003Z

Thanks to Cons for making an old song sing again.

Whiskey Wallace

2008-10-24T16:57:00.002+01:00

Due to the wonders of Mexican technology or lack of - I cannot at present post this marvelous work of art...a tribute to the power of whiskey. Many thanks to el director Jose Storey.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEM5GvSIHtU

Beached Whale Wallace

2008-10-20T18:02:00.002+01:00

Well, I´m out of the loooop what can I say. Last night I had two dreams, one I won´t go into because you may still like me, the other involved me downloading the new James Bond movie ´The Quantum of Solace´ only to find out that this was the mexican production, and Daniel Craig had been replaced with a local dude by the name of Jose Gonzalez who sports a really big tash and has a penchant for Gucamole. Not too disimmilar to myself I might add.

Yeah going cold turkey like this is hard, but on the plus side I am reading much more. Read Tom Wolfes ´A MAn in Full ´ and felt the same sensations I experienced whilst watching Series 5 of The Wire - great rush of a read. Just finished ´A History of Love´ by Nicole Krauss - and felt a tickle not too dissimilar to the one I felt when reading ´One Hundred Years of Solitude´.

So the beach provides much room to manouver - I just need to find my water wings again and attach them to my brain.

Complacent Wallace

2008-10-01T12:58:00.004+01:00

Walking the walk has proven pretty difficult so far. However this video is a good tap on the shoulder. Once my shares in Shell and Nestle have stabilised and I have recovered from my long haul flight to Central America...I am going to start recycling again and renew my membership with Greenpeace....bugger...this really isn't as easy as I thought it was going to be. Thanks to Matt for reminding me.

Wake Up, Freak Out - then Get a Grip from Leo Murray on Vimeo.

Onions

2008-09-20T00:09:00.002+01:00

So I said I'd given up on the Horse race....not quite:

Also came across this 'Grad Student Deconstructs Take-Out Menu'..... reckon a few of you might sympathise.

God knows

2008-09-15T14:27:00.001+01:00

Ooh me chakras..

2008-09-04T23:55:00.006+01:00

I'm currently writing an essay about the effects of sixties counter-culture on mainstream society. Looking at Dawkin's programme it's apparent that one of the unfortunate outcomes of the counter-cultures anti-technocracy, was an even more gullible generation that embraced 'spirituality' at the expense of reason.

Having said that, there looks to be a good bit of cash to be made in manipulating chakras. I might give it a twirl. If you want your chakras fiddled with let me know...I'm cheap.

Routemaster

2008-08-04T21:37:00.003+01:00

I've written something for The Dublin Bike Blog HERE - it's not too interesting, but if you get the chance to do the cycle, you'll find it much more stimulating...

This weekend, I was bullied and cajoled by two very good friends into completing said route. The weather was pretty schizo: one minute we were under blue skies and working on our farmers tans, the next we were cycling under a heavy curtain of rain with a pint of water in each shoe. Despite this, and a spine-chilling moment where during a steep descent, Neil discovered a back wheel with a mind of its own, we had a good laugh and the feed in Eniskerry topped it off nicely.

Gordon Brown is f***ed

2008-08-03T22:42:00.004+01:00

Saw this on the BBC website tonight....absolute genius.

Superstitious Wallace

2008-08-03T11:43:00.005+01:00

Image: Geoff Phutter

Honest friends are your best friends.

Recently I've been writing rather haughtily about the new-agers and the superstitious types who always send on those chain mails for fear of bad luck...A good friend has just reminded me that in the dim and distant past I was just as guilty of this absurd behaviour. I don't think that makes me a hypocrite, because I've been 'clean' for quite some time, but I think it's important that I admit to you all that I was once living in a box.

It was not long before my mother passed away that I developed the fixation with the number 32. I don't know where it came from, but I awoke one morning and there it was; this little number buzzing around in the empty husk that makes me walk and talk. For a while it became an integral part of my thought process, it drove quite a few decisions: who to talk to, where to walk, where to sit, what to eat...the important stuff..anyway the obsessive behaviour thankfully peaked and subsided, but the belief lingered well into my twenties. Like a kind of phantom crutch that I could lean on if things got a little bit awkward. When I look back, it doesn't surprise me much. I needed it; was too reliant on it to do anything about it, so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised when others use something similar.

woo woo wound two

2008-08-03T00:15:00.007+01:00

The woo woo debate continues in earnest on Graham Strout's splendid blog Zone5 HERE. For those of you that missed round 1 - it concerned the presence of new-agers and the distracting noise they make within permaculture. Richard Dawkins makes some similar points to those made by Graham in the God Delusion. Dawkins also discusses new-agers and their attempts to distance themselves and their beliefs from more traditional religions, masking their ideas with a sort of pseudo-scientific quackery, but ultimately there is very little difference between believing in Jesus or Wood Fairies.

Rob Hopkins does make a fair observation though - our defence or offence should remain level headed and cordial. However there is nothing wrong with a little bit of light hearted rib poking from time to time (hopefully that picture qualifies) - I hear the fairies have a wicked sense of humour..

On the subject of dowsing - I had a go recently as part of the organic college course. A very friendly guy turned up with some coat hangers, he told us:'It's a load of old rubbish really' and then made us walk around the field, whereupon he identified all manner of different water sources (underground and hidden from the eye, but he said they were there so heh). Obviously the load of old rubbish kept him solvent and as he drove off I kept thinking of those guys in the wild west that rattled around in wagons with bottles of snake oil that could make the blind see again. Unfortunately, of the 20 odd students who took part, there were only two voices questioning dowsing's validity. I had asked my lecturer prior to the lesson why we were learning about it, when there was no scientific evidence for it and I was met by a thunderous glare. Fantastic bit of education that....if you can't give an answer; intimidate them.

Cyclog

2008-08-02T17:06:00.003+01:00

Found out about Karl Whitney's excellent 'Dublin Bike Blog' yesterday. Checkout the latest entry 'Downhill' - this is a hill I've cycled up many times, but have only had the pleasure of the descent once and it was as exhilarating as Karl says it is. READ IT HERE

Chain Mail

2008-08-02T11:13:00.003+01:00

"Please read quietly then send it back on its journey"

I haven't had one of these chain emails for a while, I remember 10 years ago they were almost a weekly occurrence. Someone in accounts would get an email from a friend and it would usually follow a format like this:

The Dalai Lama says: 'The secret to happiness is':

Smile at a stranger
Shake hands with the next person you see
Watch 'Friends' with friends!
Say something encouraging to a child
Climb your neighbours tree and make monkey sounds
Look someone in the eye and tell them they are 'great, greater than great'
Eat chocolate and marzipan and pretend it's golden mud
Go tickle a trout and whisper poetry to it
Listen to a car alarm and laugh as if it was telling you a joke.

[Then comes the stinger]

Pass this message onto 5 people and you will get a lucky surprise
Pass this message onto 10 people and you will have the best sex of your life tonight
Pass this message onto 15 people and you will be met by Elvis at the Pearly Gates when you die.

{If you don't pass this on all the happiness in the world will be reduced to the size of a golf ball, which will then be lost in the rough of Satan's fairway}.

I wouldn't mind forwarding a message like this on (not this one in particular) but one with a coherent message, if it wasn't for the promise and the threat. I would love one day to see a positive message come through to me that was driven purely by superstitious nonsense like God, luck or fate.

Here's one I might start:

All people are good. You are a good person and have the capacity to do good things. It all just starts with you, no one else.
{If you want to send this message on to a few friends, then go for it, you won't necessarily gain or lose anything by doing so. It's entirely up to you}.

Fair Play Hitchens

2008-07-02T10:02:00.005+01:00

Christopher Hitchens may now be something of an annoyance to his old lefty chums - read:
Letter to a Lying, Self-Serving, Fat-Assed, Chain Smoking, Drunken, Opportunistic, Cynical Contrarian but fair play to him when it comes to money and mouth. When challenged to ascertain for himself whether the US army hobby of ''Waterboarding'' was, in his words 'extreme interrogation' or a form of torture; Hitchens agreed and let cameras record his experience for a Vanity Fair article Here

Reining Wallace in

2008-07-01T11:16:00.003+01:00

I've been out of control....I admit my interest in the American presidential race has become a full blown obsession.

For a long time my interest has been purely about who gets first past the post and not about the purpose of the race. I can't expend all this energy on a photo finish. In fact I've lost all sense of reason: recently in conversation I found myself disagreeing with a viewpoint I actually agree with, mainly because to agree with it actually undermined the integrity of my favoured horsey. That is not good, yet this is what happens so very often in political races. An inspirational candidate is pushed forward. He says all the right things, but only because of a stratagem; not because of any solid belief. Wide eyed fools like myself swallow the rhetoric like jaffa cakes and before they know it the sweet filled cakes are choking them.

I'm too old to be hoodwinked over and over again so today I'm announcing my decision to bow out of the race - permanently. Instead I intend to begin racing snails since they are just as slimy as the lads in DC and Whitehall, and equally good at u-turns.

I also promise no more asinine equine puns.

Glasto!

2008-06-30T19:58:00.004+01:00

So Glastonbury weekend again and this time I missed it. I haven't seen one picture of Eavis or his simpering daughter, nor have I seen any: mud-caked pillocks gurning at Guardian photographers, Kate Moss in Dior wellies, Doherty's festival teeth, or any of the other tattooed no-hopers hanging out on the fringes of Interzone.

Instead I visited Karl Whitney's excellent site and read the Dumbriffs official Glastonbury coverage. Later on inspired by the spirit of Glasto I went to Woodies DIY, bought a can of black paint, threw it against the living room wall and watched it dry. Best 2.99 I have ever spent during a Glastonbury weekend.

Happy Meat

2008-06-18T10:29:00.005+01:00

Most of the time I think I'm a pretty good vegetarian, in that I don't get on my soap box around meat eaters and cry when I see little lambs a-frollicking in the field.

More recently when asked why I'm a veggie, I've found it harder to give an answer. I gave up meat when I started looking into the way animals were reared and slaughtered. Undoubtedly I was an impressionable dude back then, and I'm pretty sure it all started when I was shown one of those undercover videos that groups like the Animal Liberation Front make.

Now obviously these films aren't representative of all farming conditions but my logic was that even if those farms and slaughterhouses only represent a small minority of the businesses out there, how could I guarantee that what I bought in the supermarket wasn't from one of those places. So I gave up meat, which was surprisingly easy and has been until recently, because when asked why I was still a veggie I didn't have much of an answer - it almost felt like a form of obsession. That was until today when I read this article here and watched another video, again secretly filmed, this time by Animal Aid.

It's a strange film - not too gruesome, no sombre voice over or emotive sound track. In fact it made me laugh (briefly) at one point there is a strangely warped scene where a despondent, shit caked pig stares mournfully into the camera whilst Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes belt out 'The Time of My Life from a radio somewhere off camera.

Now I'm not arguing that all meat is murder. I accept that we're omnivores and as such a well balanced diet involving some form of meat protein is no bad thing. I don't know if I will ever go back to meat, maybe it is just habit now, but there's also a sense that it never sat right with me when I ate it and the fact is I don't need to eat it. I have managed for 18 years because I have a fair understanding of nutrition and access to all the necessary foodstuffs to make a balanced pizza...I mean meal. But just you wait when the system finally breaks down and all of us back to the landers revel in our post-apocalyptic heaven - I'll be the first one out there hunting for stray cats and gerbils...

What I am saying is that as consumers we should be asking questions about where the food on our plate has come from and in the case of meat, what kind of an existence an animal has had prior to getting it's throat cut. Surely the animals that we rear should be entitled to better conditions than those in the video..I mean 'Dirty Dancing' c'mon..

PS - The answer for those of you that love meat but want happy meat - is buy organic.

Perspective

2008-06-09T23:19:00.003+01:00

As many of you know I spend a great deal of time thinking about myself. Not all together unreasonable but perhaps the moaning and complaining needs some work. It's the egocentrics downfall - too busy watching everything that's happening to him and not what's actually happening. Sometimes it takes a visual representation of where we fit into the grand scheme of things to jolt the 'centre of the universe' out of his self-absorption. Charles Eames' film The Power of Ten does that, but I can't find it - instead I found this which is humbling to say the least . Here

It's not over....

2008-06-04T10:49:00.004+01:00

..of course it's not...this is just the start. Now we have to wait and see what job the Teeth Lady gets. Then there's all the posturing that Wooden Vet and the Wing Nut will do

Expect:

Loads of pictures of the young POW in fatigues and shoulder to shoulder with other smiling war heroes.
Loads of pictures of the young BHO in rolled up sleeves with smiling inner city children and poor people.
Loads of pictures of the hoarse HRC in relaxed pantsuit with smiling women democrats and blue collar workers.

Basically expect more of the same.

I sound bitter, but I'm not. If I'm honest I'm pleased with the result - this is probably due to self-administered brain washing - or maybe I'm just sick of seeing Bill Clinton doing his Dukes of Hazard thing but sod it..it's been entertaining (Gem would say diverting) so far and there's another 5 months of:

Dumbly staring at Obama trying to work out who he reminds me of (it's Godzuki at the moment).
Dumbly staring at McCain waiting for him to do that strange pumping thing he does with his arms at rallies.
Dumbly staring at MSNBC and becoming infatuated with Tim Russert's caged optimism
Dumbly staring at the finish line without really having thought what this is going to mean in the long run...

Because realistically the US election isn't going to be about optimistic regime change. This is going to be about some poor sod trying to keep his head above the sewage that is: a desperately failing economy, a war on 'Terra', climate change, nuclear muscle flexing and a very ill Britney Spears....can't wait.

Diversity

2008-05-25T14:09:00.008+01:00

Everywhere I look I see the uniformity of a corporate design that markets products under the guise of individuality and choice, but in many respects our lives have never been more uniform and limited. Mass production and the market monopolisation by a few supermarket giants mean that we all consume from an ever diminishing shopping list of food stuffs. Languages fade like dusty black and white photo's of smiling grandparents: I checked out Scots Gaelic's rating at as a language - it's ranked between Khakas and Thai Sign Language. Culturally we have been hoodwinked into celebrating the vapid nonsense churned out by a handful of cynical companies. We have lost so much and yet it so vital to the rich experience that life should surely be.

I was listening to a guy on the radio talking about Cheddar, which some of you may know is my favourite cheese. In fact Gem and I made a pilgrimage to the town of Cheddar last year and it was a very emotional experience for me and a couple of bewildered shopkeepers, but I digress. Seemingly less than 5% of the 400 cheddar producers making the cheese 50 years ago, are now producing cheddar, and only three are manufacturing it according to the traditional method (Read here) - so the cheddar that we all know and love is churned out (ha) by a few central manufacturers and bares only a passing resemblance to the stuff our grandparents grew up on. Same for the Irish - Anag and Grus were hard pressed skim milk cheeses made in moulds while Faiscre Grotha were a fresh type of pressed curd cheese - ever heard of them? Probably not and that's primarily because of EU legislation which restricts the making of cheese with 'Raw Milk' - (In Canada and Oz it's illegal). Like so much of our diversity we are losing cheeses and it saddens me. Whilst living in Romania I used to skip down the lane to an old lady and buy a kilo of her 'Brinza' a traditional cheese made from Ewes milk. Not only was it incredibly cheap, it was also delicious but I fear that as Romania enters the Union her cheese will go the same way as all the others.

Diversity is good. It enriches our lives so much more than knowing what Britney is up to (how is she by the way), not only that but diversity is also essential to our survival. I know this will be a hard pill for some to swallow but consider the banana - it's future loss is reflective of the corporate stranglehold on diversity- some of you will know the future of the banana but if you don't, then read J Hari's comment in this Sundays Independent: Here

Rant over - time for some Dubliner.

Till I die

2008-05-23T19:39:00.002+01:00

It may have been 6 days ago, but to me Campbell is still raising the cup.

I am Bert...

2008-05-12T12:34:00.003+01:00

...and thankfully Gem knew this from the beginning.

woo-woo Wallace

2008-05-02T09:56:00.004+01:00

The thing about going down this eco route, is that it brings you into contact with a very special group of people - 'The New Agers'. You've probably met someone with new age ideas: Crystals, divination, bio-dynamics, bags of sage, tarot, the royal family are lizards..all the stuff that Mystic Meg and co. flog out of shitty stalls or dingy little shops full of purple scarves covered in more sequins than Shirl Bassey would no what do with.

It's hard being in their company. Initially because there is no reasoning with them: the whole thing is a done deal and anyone that doesn't 'believe' is just missing the real trick. It smacks of the sort of nonsense that the Jehovas come out with. Then later you start to look at their wide-eyed beard stroking and you realise that these people need these beliefs and really it's no worse than the nutters that think some outspoken Jewish guy could produce loaves and fishes from the ether. Finally for just a few minutes as you sit there in the heady stench of potpourri and patchouli, you think to yourself '..well maybe there is a chance that the intense light of Jupiter could promote better seed growth', a nano-second elapses and you shake free of the intense wizards stare and ask 'where's the evidence for this?' and the room gets smaller.

Unfortunately the new agers are also a strong voice in the Eco/sustainability movement and it's really their voice that confuses the message that those of us with a degree of critical thinking, are trying to communicate. Happily Gem stumbled upon Graham Strouts' blog HERE I would urge you to read this article and the subsequent comments if only because it's highly amusing. It does also help to show that there are rational voices, pleading for clarity and reason within the eco-movement.

Mobile Wallace

2008-04-13T20:28:00.003+01:00

This is our new mobile home, click on the photo to see inside it and to see who we bought it from.

Bearded Wallace

2008-04-05T10:29:00.007+01:00

Considering the location of the next (but hopefully last) big battle between those two political nags that I love to follow - it seems highly appropriate that Geoffrey Sachs should quote the Pennsylvanian poet Wallace Stevens (who apparently never had a beard) in his interview here.

Whilst, I'm still not sure about his economic strategy for tackling these momentous hurdles that face us, I can't help but be inspired by his optimism.

The Well Dressed Man With a Beard

After the final no there comes a yes
And on that yes the future world depends.
No was the night. Yes is this present sun.
If the rejected things, the things denied,
Slid over the western cataract, yet one,
One only, one thing that was firm, even
No greater than a cricket's horn, no more
Than a thought to be rehearsed all day, a speech
Of the self that must sustain itself on speech,
One thing remaining, infallible, would be
Enough. Ah! douce campagna of that thing!
Ah! douce campagna, honey in the heart,
Green in the body, out of a petty phrase,
Out of a thing believed, a thing affirmed:
The form on the pillow humming while one sleeps,
The aureole above the humming house...
It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.

Jet Slag Megazine

2008-04-04T09:44:00.003+01:00

The only magazine out there that really tells it like it should be..

Living Dead Wallace

2008-03-26T10:04:00.004Z

It must be Spring. A couple of my dormant winter electrons have begun to buzz a little bit more and I'm starting to sprout ugly looking polyps and cankers all over my swollen trunk. Music is to be heard around me again, and I even like to play it loud and jazzattack to it.. sway awkwardly and mouth the words badly.

This activity has been somewhat helped by the excitement I have for Vampire Weekend and Bat For Lashes. I know I'm late finding them, but I don't care, at my age it's a miracle I'm bothering at all, although I now seriously worry that I'm in that John Peel/'bad dad'/'think I might grow a mullet for old times sake' territory.

Here's Vampire Weekend's video for 'Mansard Roof' not that inspiring: Duran Duran's Rio without the Charlie.

And Bat For Lashes which is a much better job:

Some Parpaganda For Ya'll

2008-03-13T10:06:00.006Z

Horsey race aside - I have a favourite and it ain't the one with the big teeth. Johann Hari makes a pretty powerful case for why Clinton shouldn't win the nomination HERE

Here's some light propaganda:

I know for a lot of people there is a sense that it doesn't really matter, but Hari's point about the message that electing Clinton gives out to the world is an important one. His Chris Rock quote on the subject of Hillary's supposed 'experience' of the job is on the money too:

“I don’t get it. I’ve been married for ten years – but if my wife came out here on stage now, you wouldn’t laugh."

Shirl and Eddie

2008-03-13T09:20:00.003Z

Gem and I had a go at a Sleeveface this morning. Have submitted it to the sight, so will let you know if they use it.

Gambling Wallace

2008-03-12T08:43:00.005Z

I've lost my way. I can't sleep without dreaming of it. The magnificent beasts paraded before flashbulb and punter. The endless commentary. The pomp and ceremony. I had never really thought of myself as a gambling man until this week, but I see my life has become increasingly paper thin, stretched out now over the final furlongs of the 2008 democratic nomination.

This two horse race has me chewing at the bit each morning. I hastily rise to trawl through the British and American newspapers looking for some clue as to the winner. The form changes daily. The tipsters/pundits have a race of their own, and are now so exhausted from the thousands of air miles and tired rhetoric, that sometimes they forget themselves and stick their necks over (or on) the line and offer real opinion on this interminably slow, but engrossing canter across the depressed and hungry plains of America.

I have still yet to make a bet. If this were a boxing match it would have been easier, but the one with the larger teeth may still win.

Bog Man

2008-02-24T22:16:00.002Z

Went to the National Museum of Ireland recently and saw some amazing bog bodies. Really strange to see human remains from two and half thousand years ago in such good nick.

I took this sneaky pic and was quite pleased with the result, but then felt guilty for the detrimental effects of flash photography. Hopefully the hair shirt will stay in fashion.

Dexys - This Is What She's Like

2008-02-21T10:21:00.003Z

Dexys_Midnight_Runners_THIS_IS_WHAT_SHE_S_LIKE
Video sent by walladge

A cut down version (original is 12 minutes) of one of my favourite songs by Kevin Rowland and co, from their third and often underrated album 'Don't Stand Me Down'.

Zen Toilets

2008-02-09T13:13:00.000Z

Yesterday Gem and I marked the 5 years since we first met, by eating fancy foods and going to the Yeats exhibition at the National Library.

Whilst I was really impressed by the exhibition itself I was blown away by the toileting facilities. They are a step back to a time when lavatories were solidly constructed places, that one could enjoy a little longer than the urine splattered, semi-partitioned, telephone boxes that pass for toilets these days.

I have been inspired by these toilets. I would encourage everyone to reconsider the design of their crapper. We should not be rushing our movements because they are cramped and smelly, rather we should be relaxing in the moment of our movement.

Patriotic Wallace

2008-02-08T10:55:00.000Z

Last week I watched England collapse against a pretty poor looking Welsh rugby team. As usual I was in a room full of Irish Taffy supporters, so was happy to root for the English underdog, as it were.

Ordinarily I would be happy enough to join in the banter - taking it as graciously as a Wallace can, but it was too much that day. I found myself feeling some sort of idiotic national pride, something that I abhor in others. I made a poster to put on my door and it made me feel a bit better, although I think the irony may have been lost on some people. I then spent an hour or so brooding over the fact that much of Ireland will never embrace me for who I am, because of my nationality and it made me quite upset and still does.

Ultimately it does say something about a nation who cannot put the past into perspective. On Wednesday this week I was told aggressively ''..my Grandfather fought the Brits'' as if I was to feel guilty for that. I looked over at my German house mate, who grinned back at me and felt glad that for some people the past is just that. Dependence on the past to help define national identity is indicative of an ingrained collective insecurity. HD Thoreau said:

'They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.'

I am glad to say that I am no more patriotic than I was before. I am English though and love the blessed Queen in lots of dirty ways.

Rude Wallace

2008-02-08T10:36:00.000Z

Some time ago, I confronted one of my fellow students about the fact that he always talked to me in a piss take English accent. Often I would be greeted by "Oh good morning my Lord" or something equally witty. Eventually I snapped and asked him quite aggressively to desist from his nonsense which he eventually agreed to, though he felt sure I was over reacting.

This week, it was his turn to confront me. I and another guy had made some drunken noise in his flat and had woken him at the frightful time of 10pm. The following morning he reprimanded me, despite my best efforts to apologise.

For a while I was certain that he had over reacted and couldn't work out why until I returned to the day when I had scolded him for something equally petty. I can now hear all sorts of trite truisms taunting me, but hopefully there is something to be learned from this newly found insight.

The question is whether it will really stop me from being a rude bastard or not.

Wallace Churchill

2007-12-14T16:13:00.000Z

Today I spent a great deal of time reading anything I could find by critics of climate change and anthropogenic causes of global warming. I'm ashamed to say that up until today I had pretty much taken everything I read in the Guardian or Independent for granted. I took everything I read at face value not really allowing for the chance that climate change might be caused by something else. Not the most objective of stances.

So what did I learn? Well not surprisingly I learnt that there is a small group of scientists and lay-people who think that man isn't responsible for climate change. One of them, the very vocal Viscount Monckton of Brenchley published his 'findings' in The Telegraph last year. To a layman like myself they are quite persuasive - largely because he uses lots of complex terms and whilst they're incomprehensible to me, it has the feel of learned scientific investigation. Later I found myself asking why it was that a Viscount, a product of the lazy landed gentry, had chosen a career in science. On a little bit more tinternet sifting it turns out that Monckton has no scientific training. The scientific community has largely laughed him out of the laboratory and to add insult to injury there are questions over his 'sponsors'. This is not to say that there aren't real scientists who do think man has a direct link to climate change. The IPCC and hundreds of eminent scientists just could be wrong, so what do we do?

I kept thinking of Neville Chamberlain waving his piece of paper and later the thin smile that quickly broke as Mr Hitler carried on with his plans for Czechoslovakia. Its not such a terrible analogy (maybe it is but sod it) - we are faced with similar circumstances. We can take the gamble and trust those few voices that say we have no part to play in climate change and carry on as before; or we can rise from what is largely our own apathy and try and clean up some of the mess around us. Is this the way we want to leave the world? I am of the opinion that as gambles go it is better to be forewarned and forearmed - we don't have to give up a great deal, just look at ways we can minimise the damage we do now and in the future. How hard can it be?

I make these changes now and there is still a small chance that future generations of Wallace's can bound over hill and dale - happy in the knowledge that a fat ancestor didn't sit on his laurels because he couldn't run the risk of being wrong.

New Song

2007-10-29T12:42:00.000Z

This week I've been working on a 13 acre veggie farm on the Kildare/Wicklow border. One man and his dog run the place. It's a huge amount of work and he does a great job.

Like the last place there is an interest in bio-dynamics but less of an interest in those confusing magic spells. He hopes in the future that he'll have more time to farm according to the bio-dynamic principles, but I'd say that's a lot to ask - 13 acres is a lot of hard work.

I learnt a lot this week, but perhaps the biggest lesson was not to over stretch oneself if you don't have to. Small scale growing may not generate the same profits but whilst quality of life may suffer in one sense, it may improve in another.

Here's a ropey recording of a new song provisionally titled 'Garden Brook' - I've uploaded it HERE

Tree Hugging

2007-10-21T14:49:00.000+01:00

Well it's been a while. I've been away learning about plants. Amazing things plants. Tress are the big fascination so far. My favourite being the Beech tree - followed closely by the oak. The college is an interesting place, relaxed, friendly, earthy. Good bunch of people who have lots of differing reasons for learning.

This week I was on a work placement at Irish Seed Savers Assoc. Amazing place - people doing great things with seeds, in the sordid battle against Monsanto. They grow bio-dynamically which I have to say requires me to make too big a leap of faith. I've never been one for astrology and I have big reservations about Rudolph Steiner, however I enjoyed having a go at some of the magic and in the photo above you can see me filling a cow's horn with cow poop - part of a ritual I didn't really understand.

Testing one's entrenched beliefs is obviously very useful so I have enjoyed listening to Steiner's ideas whilst sitting on my iron clad fence. This weeks sees me return to Wicklow to farm organically without Steiners brand of horticulture, but perhaps with an equal measure of magic.

The Wallace Ego

2007-07-18T21:55:00.000+01:00

I have recently written a few songs and have decided to share some rough versions of them with the rest of the world, on a Myspace site. Click on the picture above or here.

A rude decoration inscribed on rocks or walls

2007-07-16T15:35:00.000+01:00

Iraq Vets

2007-07-12T09:03:00.000+01:00

An article from The Nation giving voice to some of the US troops who served in Iraq here
or you can read excerpts here.

Rushton's Gambit

2007-07-07T15:52:00.001+01:00

I was listening to I'm Sorry I haven't A Clue and 'Rushton's Gambit' was used in the pseudo game Mornington Crescent which for those of you who have yet to hear, is a game that parodies the complexities of serious games by being played as if it has many rules but in fact has none. Players apparently obeying the non-existent rules and using clever stratagems, call out at random various stations of the London Underground- the winner being the first to say 'Mornington Crescent'. A typically English bit of idiocy which was why Willie Rushton was the perfect player and 'Rushton's Gambit' was therefore named after him.

Rushton was a grinning wild eyed cartoonist and one of the co-founders of Private Eye, but what I remember him most for was the animated show The Trap Door, which he voiced all the characters (much like Kenneth Williams in Willow The Wisp). It had a running time of about three minutes thirty and had no real plot to speak of other than it centred around a blue blob of plasticine called Berk who was responsible for feeding 'The Thing Upstairs', whilst his sidekick Boni, (an animated Yorick) made disparaging remarks and some manner of 'horrible thing' emerged from a trap door to mess up Berks plans.

I found them on You Tube (yes it's back in favour with me now) and someone has kindly put the entire series up. You can see the first episode here.

I was this close to Shirley Bassey

2007-06-22T13:21:00.000+01:00

Glastonbury weekend and I hate to say this but if you're going and you shelled out 10,000 quid so that Michael Eavis can bathe his ape man body in Royal Jelly - you're a fool, a sheep, a downright disgrace! I understand why a lot of people think it's a great weekend, but put simply they're deluded and they most probably listen to Keane.

Glastonbury has gone the way of so many good ideas - it's had huge corporate investment and re-branding and now is a cynical greed-fest, where huge amounts of energy are consumed and all it leads to is a lake of excrement and hundreds of tons of waste, so that some toss pot who works for the TSB can say 'Yeah it was banging. I was off me tits for most of it, but I remember I saw Shirley Bassey and Bjork doing a duet of 'Chitty chitty Bang Bang'. Question: when you say 'saw' were you near enough to throw something and risk hitting them, or were you half a mile away slumped against one of those huge sound towers squinting at a small screen?

I have never been attracted to festivals, possibly because of my fear of large groups of intoxicated monkeys. I did however play at Reading some 16 years ago. Ah there's my trumpet. Yep it's true - nothing to be proud of though, it was exciting for a while but flat lined as soon I walked out on stage and saw a sea of tired dirty faces waiting for something to happen. The more I looked out over the large flock the more my mind created to-do lists - I do recall wondering whether Dad had remembered to water the tomato plants. After playing I got drunk, sobered up and got the train home and checked on the tomatoes.

I found this interesting 'fact' which I think says a lot about the kind of fun to be had at these mega-festivals. When Incubus played they asked for two fully tuned air guitars, with new strings, which had to be signed by Jimmy Page. How crazyfun is that?! With bands like Incubus you're guaranteed a great time or nausea - wonder what Kaiser Chiefs will get up to!

Have fun in the mud.

Dirty Insects

2007-05-11T14:56:00.000+01:00

This morning I went out to bring the laundry in off the line before it got soaked in a sudden downpour. In my haste I ran into a spider web and inhaled whatever winged beastie had been caught in it. With the rain tipping down I didn't have time to hack the thing back up so tried to breathe 'around' it, whilst skipping over the nettles and briars reclaiming my already sodden underpants. On returning back, I achieved the near impossible and coughed the spidey prey back up. It's dried out now and I can confirm it to be winged and of the Beastie genus.

Where am I going with this...? Oh yeah last night I too was caught in a spider's web....nice link eh?! I went and saw Spiderman 3. Watching it was a bit like coughing up a fly that has sat on your lung. There's a dirty feeling. For a short time you shared something of yourself. You think about the shit and vomit that fly’s love so much and you feel dirty. I also felt dirty after Spidey 3. I felt dirty, used and effete - like the contents of Avi Arad's Y-fronts.

The film could have been great. Instead it took all the worse parts of 1 and 2 and exaggerated them. We see PP strutting down the street again to some good awful funk, but he's BAD this time round and likes to wag his 2 fingers suggestively. He plays Jazz piano, wears eyeliner and his hair strays over his eyes. They bring in Raimi’s mate Bruce Campbell (I'm a big fan) again and even he gets it wrong doing a bad John Cleese frenchman. They use 'That 70's twat' Topher Grace who is never dark enough to fill the boots of Venom and The Sandman gets watered down into a tearful muppet who just wants to be everyone’s mate. Stan Lee gets a line as well. Please stop giving Stan Lee cameos in Marvel films. It was a little bit amusing initially, but now I spend most of the time in these films waiting for the moustachioed old codger to appear and wreck the film for me.

I could be feeing dirty for a number of reasons: Maybe the studios got more of a hold on things. Maybe Raimi and co are so cosy with each other they listen to each other too much and ignore the fans and the comic books. Maybe the initial screenings were to a bunch of 14 year old girls into Pink and Green Day. Anyway it all adds up to a cinematic con and I feel dirty. I can’t believe I’m writing this, but do not go and see this film. Get a cheap Chinese Bit Torrent and save yourself the soap.

Kurt and Chad

2007-04-16T20:02:00.001+01:00

Kurt Vonnegut died last week. In his memoir he said that he gave up on humanity: ' Like my distinct betters Einstein and Twain, I now give up on people, too.' This is a man who witnessed WW2 at first hand and then lived long enough to witness George W.

I've been thinking about Kurt and until yesterday found myself shrugging my shoulders thinking Kurt was probably right, after all what do you do with a crippling sense of powerlessness coupled with a belief that as a species we're beyond redemption? Giving up seems logical.

If I accept Kurt's viewpoint then should I lead a life without a sense of responsibility for other people? If I come across a man badly bleeding in the street, should I leave him, there are bound to be plenty of other people bleeding too? What about when I sit down to the TV or the paper and see pictures of the thin, beaten down black people? I feel something twitch It's a short twitch in the stomach nothing more, I turn the newspaper, flick the channel and they're gone. Phew.

Seemed fairly straight forward but despite Kurt's words I'm not getting the phew feeling. It won't come for me like it did yesterday. There's 'little skeletal black child' in Chad but I know that he's still there, or another just like him. He's lying there with nothing in his stomach, dead parents blood on his face and a cameraman walking away from him, leaving him alone in the world again.

Kurt may be right, but he was a tired old man and that old word 'maybe' is still there - I keep coming back to that chance that we could each do something amazing if we bothered - how could improving the quality of another's life be a waste of time? How can giving up be enough to sustain me when I've barely started thinking about other people?

here's a link . If you are like me and oblivious to one of the many catastrophes that befall other people, you could have a look at it and if nothing else you could say you didn't ignore it.

Geri Halliwell

2007-04-11T09:30:00.000+01:00

This morning I listened to this years Reith Lectures. Jeffrey Sachs argues for an optimistic reappraisal of global politics that will fight the challenges that face our generations lives in an over populated and polluted world. Great! Not really.

The Q&A session led to some interesting challenges from eminent pessimists who question whether we as humans can harness reason to make optimistic change. Then the drum roll, the fanfare and the true voice of optimism sang forth .....an ineloquent, moronic idiot who doesn't know her arse from her elbow, still parroting the 'Girl Power' mantra - for fucks sake!

I felt robbed. The lecture which was full of such optimism lost it's momentum thanks to an idiot looking for any platform she can use to self promote. If I had any any optimism it seeped out of me at that point. Replaced by rage and overwhelming desire to learn voodoo or the way of the Ninja. Anything to rid this planet of the disease that inhabits glossys, the tabloids and MTV.

Anyway. I am calm again! I would urge all of you Townsfolk to click on this link and listen to the lecture. In this age of doom and gloom it's refreshing (if nothing else), to hear an optimist. Put aside your negativity, forget his reliance on JFK and believe we can be better people.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/reith2007/

We can make choices if we understand them.

Letter for Darfur

2007-03-24T12:41:00.000Z

Today an important or impotent (depending on your level of cynicism) letter was sent - read below:

To the leaders of the 27 nations of the EU,

How dare we Europeans celebrate this weekend while on a continent some few miles south of us the most defenceless, dispossessed and weak are murdered in Sudan?

Has the European Union - born of atrocity to unite against further atrocity - no word to utter, no principle to act on, no action to take, in order to prevent these massacres in Darfur? Is the cowardliness over Srebrenica to be repeated? If so, what do we celebrate?

The thin skin of our political join?

The futile posturings of our political class?

The impotent nullities of our bureaucracies?

The Europe which allowed Auschwitz and failed in Bosnia must not tolerate the murder in Darfur. Europe is more than a network of the political classes, more than a first world economic club and a bureaucratic excrescence. It is an inherited culture which sustains our shared belief in the value and dignity of the human being. In the name of that common culture and those shared values, we call upon the 27 leaders to impose immediately the most stringent sanctions upon the leaders of the Sudanese regime.

Forbid them our shores, our health service and our luxury goods. Freeze their assets in our banks and move immediately to involve other concerned countries.

We must not once again betray our European civilization by watching and waiting while another civilization in Africa is destroyed.

Let this action be our gift to ourselves and our proof of ourselves. And when it is done, then let us celebrate together with pride.

Umberto Eco
Dario Fo
Günter Grass
Jürgen Habermas
Václav Havel
Seamus Heaney
Bernard Henri-Levy
Harold Pinter
Franca Rame
Tom Stoppard

Hero Wallace

2007-03-20T09:29:00.000Z

Yesterday Gem and I spent our bank holiday watching 'Heroes'. It's an American TV series about a group of people with super powers who are destined to meet and 'save the world' - which actually means saving New Yawk from a bomb - and who says the yanks are full of themselves.

Anyway something amazing happened - Gem got more hooked on the show than I did. Normally it's me that obsesses about a TV program to the extent that I swallow it whole and shit out it's innards an hour later. However yesterday she joined me and together we became a new Hero - one that was able to watch 10 episodes of Heroes in a single sitting. Each episode is roughly 50 mins long - so you do the maths. I'm really proud of her.

This is a big step for her to take but hopefully it means that she will come over to the stale side and together we will spend more time together watching mindless shite - rather than talking or listening to music, or perish the thought..reading.

Perspective is a great thing to have, as is the moral high ground.

The end?

2007-03-09T10:05:00.000Z

Haven't really felt like posting anything for a while. I've been caught up in the world of property and have become obsessed with money. It was inevitable. I'm a greedy capitalist pig with the remnants of past socialist ideals crusting on my chin, amongst foies gras and Swan feathers. Nevermind, maybe I'll be a good capitalist like Dick Branson- That's where Murdoch went wrong. If he'd just grown a beard he'd have the world loving him.

Anyway I haven't been surfing the usual sights recently untill I was introduced to TV Links
It's a good site, but be prepared - any TV series (most anyway) that were on YouTube have gone. I went and had another look at Youtube and in the last couple of months they have stripped it clean. Most TV episodes have been removed - South Park, Curb, Seinfeld. Increasingly you are treated to loads of Yanks reinacting their favourite moments, or talking about them. That's fine, but tight wads like me need free stuff! Anyway you can link to series like Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, Spaced, Black Books - so go to TV links and download them now. Otherwise email me and I'll send you some.

This is obviously an example of the way the net will go. We've all read about the big buyouts but perhaps we've assumed that the internet is something solid and unshakeable, an organism dependent soley on its users. It's not. It's a big phoneline; dependent on a few service providers who want to maximise profit and in doing so limit the relative equality of the net. All that we know of this electronic world could change and most probably will, not necessarily for the better. anyway there's some hope - Youtube are still showing a couple of interesting shorts on Net Neutrality here and here.

We may moan about ads and bugs but the net is something quite amazing and maybe we take it for granted.

Just as a footnote - I've been looking at what the issue would mean for the UK and found the Westminster eForum Keynote Seminar: Net Neutrality in the UK - 20th March 2007 here and it's sponsor and one of the key speakers?????? well let's just say that logo above aint there cos it looks pretty.

In my room

2007-01-30T19:47:00.000Z

Today I spent an hour trying to remember my childhood bedroom. It's about 14 years ago that I last saw it and in that time I have rarely given it much thought. The odd reminisce regarding a poster I had or a game I played with my brother. Today I remembered it as it was when I left it.

It hadn't changed a bit. Richard Davalos looked out from The Smiths Strangeways and Elvis with dopey eyes from Shoplifters. Anti-facist and gay rights, potted plants and ferns growing out of an old shop till, poorly drawn sketches and the old ripped swivel chair that dad brought back form his office that stank of cigarettes. A single bed with Habitat enthnic print and clumsy funiture painted numerous layers of gloss untill all contours and detail were blurred and dripping. It was a typical teen angst, lazy with love and easily forgotten life in that room - but I have carried it with me all these years not knowing that it lingered on as a persistent series of images and feelings.

How happy to inhabit an old memory and re-explore a surface that no longer exists, however superficial.

Rain Man Wallace

2007-01-08T12:28:00.000Z

I've got Aspergers or for those of you not in the know - Aspergers syndrome which is a milder variant of Autistic Disorder and comes under the category of Autistic Spectrum Disorder.

Yeah it's true. I went to Aspergers.com and read their information on the criteria for diagnosis. Seems I'm a high functioning ‘Ass Burger’, (that's an in-joke - only someone with Aspergers could get away with using that).

So how did I find out? Well it was Gary Numan the singer-songwriter who alerted me to my condition. Yeah I was reading Twazz magazine and there was an article about Gary. It seems poor old Gary has always had a problem talking to people and prefers his own company. He dropped this plank warping revelation:

'I did have friends but a lot of the time I liked to play by myself or read books'. Later in the interview he reveals: 'I find it hard to look into peoples faces - sometimes I just want to laugh at how funny they look'.

The poor man. Luckily diagnosis has helped Gary get back into the headlines and maybe shift a few more copies of his new album 'Buses'. Other celebs also finding themselves on the Autistic Spectrum include:

Geoff Capes - former World’s Strongest Man and whining bearded yokel: 'I always knew there was a reason why I just gave up in the latter part of my strongman career, it was the bloody autism sapping my strength.’

David Bellamy - crazy half man/half plant: 'I always knew there was something wrong with me as soon as I started laughing at Lenny Henry.'

Ainsley Harriott - TV chef and failed stand up comedian: 'I always knew there was something wrong with the amount of shop openings I attended. At first I thought it was just the money that made me do it. Now I see it's the autism. I'm obsessive!'

It's quite likely that you too are on the autistic spectrum. Current estimates suggest that almost two thirds of the white middle classes are doomed to leading perfectly normal and unsatisfying lives whilst self diagnosed with ASD.

I am currently looking at ways of exploiting my disorder. I've been working on straw counting and can count 8. I aim to break Geoff Capes’ record of 18 by March this year.

New Wallace (note: this is not a New Years resolution)

2006-12-30T11:39:00.000Z

No more moaning! Yeah! I'm going to try an sit down and relfect positively on any event that happens to me.

So last night I woke up weeping. I sat alone in bed, daylight still hours from my window and reflected on the empty shell that I am. I looked at old photos of me in my youth and felt absolutely no connection to the idiot gurning back at me. I don't know what was going on in my head back then. I have no memories, no notes, no books, friends and family are often too polite to go into details. So that leaves me with a blank smile.

What do you do with your past? Well last night the total absence of past memory emotional or otherwise - left me with very little to go on, but in the light of this new attempt at optimism I'm going to spin it around. The guy I was then has led to the man I am now. I'm not happy with the man I am now, and since I have very little memory of what got me to this point, I believe I can start again without a guilty conscience. So the guy I was yesterday is no more. Today I reinvent myself.

I'm going to do things: say things, read things, watch things, build things, write things, love things. Is that enough? Surely it is. Surely?

First things first - an afternoon watching crap Christmas TV, then I begin...

oh yeah - the photo - I took it on Christmas day, it was the nearest thing I could get to Santa Claws

David Byrne and The Cynics

2006-12-15T18:42:00.000Z

I’m getting pretty disenchanted with some people. It’s more than possible that this is symptomatic of my general mood, since I’m not normally so affected by other people.

Thankfully a visit to David Byrne’s blog confirmed some suspicions I had and now I know I’m not alone. I always thought Byrne was a cool dude - I knew it when as a thirteen year old I heard ‘Road to Nowhere’ and a few years later ‘Mommy Daddy You & I’:

Well we'll keep driving, keep driving
Driving with all of our might
Changing, still changing
Changing the water of life
Keep that little man a shining
See how the tail can wag the dog

He raises an interesting point about the potential for self-delusion amongst the intelligent:

‘Sometimes it seems like the smarter a person is the better they are at deluding themselves…and deluding others, of course. Intelligence, combined with will, gives one the ability to analyze and reason — but simultaneously confers an equal ability to lie and deny, to ignore and deceive.’

Full musings here

More recently I have encountered people using cynicism as if it were the only intelligent take on the modern world. This is not the cynicism of Antisthenes, who held virtue in such high regard. This is the modern sneer that helps to validate a halt to analysis and reflection.

I myself have been charged with cynicism, though I think there is little basis for this accusation, other than a cruel sense of humour - perhaps I’m kidding myself. If I am a cynic to the point where I absolve myself of responsibility for thought and action then I am truly a fool. I think it would be a tragedy for any one of us to assume we had the world sewn up enough to stop looking at it and our place in it. I'm sure that old Greek would be turning in his grave if he knew what The Cynics do today.

When Harvey met Larry and a butterfly flapped

2006-12-10T22:53:00.000Z

I wasn't that surprised when I saw the shy little mite hiding behind a bin in a Tesco's car park. In retrospect I see that it's not really a common occurrence, a lamb in a car park, but I was in an absent minded mood and with only a library book to return and an afternoon of meat beating to look forward to, I decided check out the shivering shit-caked beastie.

The yellow tag on it's ear flicked against the side of the metal bin and I perceived hot vapour emerge from it's small pulsating nostrils and then disappear into the morning air. Fear dripped out of its quivering backside, and as I breathed in the rich earthy scent, a tenderness rushed through me. I would save this little creature. Blake’s lamb would find safety in my arms. I, the lone shepherd, would stride through Tescos, ignoring the reduced beans and 2 for 1 deodorant, with the little white parcel bleating merrily and licking the ruddy cheeked face of his saviour. People would clap and cheer at the sight of the two of us joined together in perfect harmony.

I had several options in order to make the lamb safe. The first relied on the element of surprise. I would turn my back on it and just when it thought I was going to walk away I would spring, cat like and grab it by the ears and wrestle it to the ground. The alternative plan was to coax it towards my open arms with some salt sachets I had found in my pocket.

I tried the salt sachets but my violent shaking of them just inspired another bowel movement. So I turned on my heels feigning disgust, walked a half pace forward and then in a series of controlled movements tripped over myself and began to fall toward the little white bundle of fluff. As I fell, I experienced something I can only describe now as a slowing down of time. As I made my descent, I noticed the tight white curls of its fleece, the pink tongue of its smiling mouth, the beauty of its gleaming eyes. This lamb really was an amazing creature: 'I'm glad I don't eat your kind' I screamed and then flopped face down into its fear induced excreta.

Silence. I got up slightly dazed and shit stained - half remembering that I needed some insole deodorisers. The poor little thing was lying a few yards from where I had fallen. I hadn't hit it, but there it was lying in a steadily growing pool of its own blood. Above it was the jagged handle of a large refuse bin and I quickly deduced that the lamb had sprung out of my way and straight into the bin handle, suffering a fatal head trauma.

I was in shock. A crowd was growing around me; my hands and face covered in lamb shit, and the bloody corpse lying at my feet. A little girl in the crowd began to cry; 'Mummy why did the brown man kill the sheeps?' I looked at her little red head and freckles and expected to weep, but nothing came. I simply reached into the bin and found an empty cardboard box, picked up the carcass and placed the dripping body gently into the box and the box in the bin.

I started to make my way home, covered in shit and blood. People stared at me, yet no one offered me help until one really big guy looked like he was about to. In that instance of blind panic I jumped out of his way and straight into a lamppost. The big guy helped me up, his hands now covered in faeces and blood. A smartly dressed middle-aged couple stopped in front of us and shook their heads at him and he in turn looked at me sadly, and began shaking his head. I looked down at my hands and thought of the lamb and then remembered I still had a library book to take back.

We all walked away from each other, still shaking our heads. Each of us wondering why.

Eircom

2006-12-04T21:51:00.000Z

I have a great affection for this country. How gracious indeed. No one can say that I'm not a generous Englishman abroad...and this despite the frequent reminders of past English tyranny. Yes I do love this green jewel; this merry land of laughter. The people here are friendly, relaxed, and have a great sense of camaraderie. They play sports, drink beer and experience puberty and old age; just the same as their English friends. Remarkable.

He sniffs absentmindedly and reaches for the sherry.

However. I have a growing feeling that Ireland’s economic prosperity is leading to an atmospheric change amongst those generous men and women of Eire (this whilst the storms from Galway rage outside). Increasingly I get the impression that the results of embracing the current economic program has inevitably led to a situation where every fucker is out to screw the other. It’s no wonder this happens when several prominent Irish politicians including the Taoisheach have been accused of profiting from their political careers. I know this is nothing new, certainly there are many corrupt English MP's to choose from, but I suppose I had hoped that Ireland which is politically at least, a relatively new country might retain it’s memory of English self-interest and corruption and make changes for the amelioration of it’s people, not the corrupt and greedy.

This brings me onto my rant about Eircom. Broadband in Ireland is a joke. Most of us living in Dublin have a handful of ISPs to choose from; all of whom are trying to cash in on the market before it is regulated properly. Service is: poor, costly, and connection is limited - often you are paying for the equivalent of dial-up. This, in the capital city! The rest of Ireland is in a worse state. Why? The answer is Eircom. Previously a state owned company, it has been able to monopolise the telecoms market, reaping huge profits from overcharged customers who are paying for an inferior product. Comreg are meant to police the telecoms industry but merely act as a tool for legitimising Eircom’s abuse of its customers.

So whilst we continue to use mediocre internet connections at rip off prices, a bunch of wealthy Irish businessman sit in the Eircom boardroom and diddle swans. The greedy fuckers.

Coming soon. Michael O'Leary- greedy tosser

Ritual

2006-11-30T21:44:00.000Z

Recently I attended a church service. As I sat there absorbing the familiar and unfamiliar, I became increasingly aware of the rituals that were taking place. A large group of people kneeling, heads bowed, and hands locked together, crossing themselves and repeating incantations. Religious ritual is an odd thing to observe when you are no longer participating, and as an atheist I haven’t participated for 19 years. So I sat there in my elevated position of observer and absorbed the rituals, perhaps even chuckling to myself about the ridiculous nature of ‘ritual’.

Gem asked me after what I made of the ceremony and I think I was rather offhand saying something like ‘Bizarre’, believing myself to be above the ‘flock’. Of course on reflection I’m a mass of contradictions. An atheist who still asks his dear departed mum to pull a few strings upstairs, and just as prone to a form of ritual (in it’s loosest sense) as those who recite the rosary. You see I can't desist from attaching significance to the number 32 (despite my best efforts). Logically I can see that one number cannot have any greater significance over another, and that the observed patterns I have found in the 'power of thirty two' are merely as a result of selective attention. Yet I still find myself occasionally going through a form of numerical ritual despite knowing that it in no way fits in with my rationalist perspective. So why do I and so many others need to carry out this type of behaviour?

Human ritual finds it routes in non-human ritualized signalling. Non-human displays communicate important information regarding the condition, status, and intent of the sender and are often concerned with competition and receiver signals. Think of the elaborate animal displays such as the mating dance of the Peacock. Animal behaviourists and evolutionary psychologists suggest that the more complex and costly (energy) the signal the more ‘honest’ and reliable the message. Durkeheim and more recently other evolutionary anthropologists have proposed that religious behaviours constitute costly signals, e.g. constraint on sex, food, marriage, and that these rituals contribute to social cohesion. The more costly the signal, the more honest the message of group commitment. Perhaps a suicide bomber makes the most honest signal of his commitment to his group, though I can’t see how that level of signal honesty could benefit his continued position in the group.

Cognitive psychology now throws light on the physical effects of these rituals: Like the signals of non-human ritual, those of religious ritual have been shown to produce neurophysiological responses in humans. However the difference between non-human and human ritual is that the fundamental elements of human religious ritual are, ‘abstract symbols devoid of inherent emotional or cognitive meaning.’ (Alcorta and Sosis, 2004). The conclusion must therefore be that emotional responses to these symbols are learnt. I guess it doesn’t take a cognitive scientist to point these things out - Cliff Richard (still a sex symbol to some) strikes fear into the hearts of many, but we surely weren’t born fearing Cliff? I wasn’t, I used to quite like him.

The neurophysiological effect of carrying out these rituals and the process of learning to physically respond to them, is an area that is apparently still under researched but there is evidence to show significant positive associations between religious participation and individual health. Studies have demonstrated decreased mental and physical health risks, faster recovery times for a variety of disorders, and longer life for those who regularly attend weekly religious services, (let’s put aside the millions who have died in religious wars).

It isn’t my intention to offend those who have faith and participate in religious ceremonies. I know from my own experience what a powerful feeling it is to be part of a collective act of worship and certainly the rituals I observed as a Christian helped to enhance that experience. However I think it’s interesting that very few of ask ourselves why we do these things. I asked today and got an interesting answer from the scientists and I can see now that my numerical incantations are not rituals, insofar that they are not part of a customary observance used to signal group commitment. More that they are a kind of obsessive twitch!

Perhaps if I were to create a new religion around the number 32 then I could share my rituals with you and we could join in a collective act of worship and all feel better for it! I can see it now: ‘The Halls of 32’, the calculator shaped pendants, the hymns, and the funny walk.

When Harvey met Larry

2006-11-21T23:40:00.000Z

So I go round to this guy’s house. I met him a few times over the past year and we’d talked a bit about writing and music. He's a nice bloke and I wanted to get to know him better.

I turn up and immediately I'm stuck for something to talk about. He's an intellectual and I'm just someone who dicks around with words. I'm too scared to discuss a book I'm reading at the moment. I read one of Ishiguro’s other books before and despite the narrative using a very distinctive if somewhat awkward voice - I found it an enjoyable and thought provoking read, but I couldn't bring myself to discuss the problems I have with the other Ishiguro, so I just made a bit of small talk and he put on a video.

What do you do in the video situation? It was a sitcom. Can you talk over a sitcom? Talking over a film is a no no, but a sitcom? Was it a deliberate move to have some background noise and allow chat to happen? Naturally I'm mulling this over and in retrospect I should have just asked, it may have led to an interesting discussion on the etiquette surrounding the sitcom. Instead I sat there and laughed. Maybe I was laughing too loud? I had to check myself a couple of times. Too much laughter says ‘I need this to be funny’, not enough and you could look bored.

I had brought some Penguin biscuits from a 100% extra free pack I’d bought earlier that day. I was going to make an offering of them, but there was something too cheap about them. They didn't come in the original red wrapper, because they were the 100% free pack. I left them in the bag, berating myself for my unintended cheapness and cowardice.

Then his flatmate turns up. I didn't bring any beer, but this guy did, which just compounded my guilt further, so I declined a beer, opting for water - maybe as some sort of gesture. To whom this gesture was being made, I don't know.

Then I started to think about my feet. I could just smell them inside my big steel toe caps and was sure the stench of work was still on me. What was I doing going empty handed into this guys house with rotten feet, nothing to say for myself and half a packet of biscuits?

On the way home I past by a drunk who was alone in the freezing cold, shouting at some swans and he helped to put things into perspective.

I'm a dumb schmuck, but a lucky one.

Project Play - Contribute, Join in.. Play?

2006-11-16T11:53:00.000Z

Check out some good music you can download and advance to, on the Project Play website. Click here NEW MUSIC

There has been very little activity on the site for a while, but some Project Play people seem to be waking up again. Please go and have a look, you're bound to find something you like. Read the poems and the stories, listen to some music and watch a film or two. Have a look HERE

Some people have said they'd be willing to join in, but then you they go back to the DIY, the study , the job or the TV and nothing happens. I don't blame them. It's hard to find the time, or maybe it's fear, but what have you go to fear? It's a tiny little blog site, you can be as anonymous as you wish. If you have something you want to share - then share it! There's no editorial control (as if), there's no standard, there's no political/creative agenda. Just people who want to Play, so have a go!

Me - I'm working on trying to record a new tune. I may even try to sing on it. So if I can manage to put that on display surely you can send in a drawing, a photo, an opinion - something?

Song of Childhood, by Peter Handke

2006-11-12T20:24:00.000Z

I'd forgotten this - here's an excerpt

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

Read the full poem here it's worth it.

That virtual joke is wearing thin..

2006-11-11T11:42:00.000Z

Ironically after spending almost 2 weeks moving furniture and getting our new flat ready I am doing it all over again. This time it's in cyberspace in a virtual world. It's a world designed to enable researchers at Oxford University to carry out a variety of assessments on individuals with autism. The virtual world offers a fun, safe, familiar environment and caters for a variety of abilities and needs.

The world currently comprises a complex of houses surrounded by fields and trees, thus giving the space for growth. Those who enter the world choose an 'avatar', a character with which to represent themselves and are able to communicate through voice or messaging.

There are other much larger worlds that are now making big money. People build, work, date, have sex, and possibly even emit virtual gasses from their virtual posteriors and all from the comfort of their PC. It's becoming big business with people buying up beach front properties as investments, see Observer article here.

I have been given a house to 'decorate' which means my selecting objects from a vast catalogue and deciding where they should go. Obviously there's a lot less lifting involved, but it's still a fraught process, with many complex decisions to be made. Thus far I have managed to put a bookshelf at the bottom of the stairs, although now I have access issues.

Personally I think these 'big bucks' worlds, are representative of an increasing western trend to avert our eyes towards the impressive portals of the internet, as a means of escape, rather than looking out towards the grandeur of the world we inhabit physically. One that is so increasingly under threat.

Thankfully our real world home is almost finished and Gem and I are virtually able to relax...ooh!

Moving

2006-11-03T09:23:00.000Z

This week I've taken it upon myself to try and move us next door. Despite the proximity of our new flat, this has still been a lot of work. Admittedly there has been a fair bit of DIY, but there's also the sifting through the detritus; trying to discard those objects that apparently provide shape and stability to my township.

It's taken time and did I really need to spend a full 20 minutes staring mournfully at a broken Spiderman figurine, debating it's usefulness, it's material and sentimental value? No, but I still did it and that was one of the easier decisions. Actually it got better and I have reduced my worldly possessions back down to a couple of boxes...sort of.

I spent an hour lecturing Gem on the merits of living without encumbrances. By the end of my lecture I felt light and free of excess baggage until she pointed at the eight or nine large boxes of mildew-coated, vinyl joy, clogging the living room. I don't know if I consider records as possessions. They may be a living organism, like coral. Sometimes I get the feeling that hundreds of black eyes are looking at me from under damp cardboard lids; that they wince when I disrobe them too quickly, or clean them too roughly.

However the cull must happen, sentient vinyl that it may be; there will be much blood (paper cuts) sweat (f’ing heavy boxes) and tears (I’ve known them for a long time), but at the end of the day I will emerge unencumbered and resolute… or maybe I'll just hide them somewhere else.

I Love Julian Bream

2006-10-25T09:59:00.001+01:00

Those who have ever looked through charity shop record boxes will know that usually you spend most of your time flicking through hundreds of 'DJ' white labels, James Galway, Des O'Connor, Jim Reeves, Mantavani and a clump of 'classical'. It was amongst the classical that I found Julian Bream. I only bought the record because an old man on the London Underground had mentioned him during one of those rare conversations with a stranger, but that's serendipity for you.

My mother had been a fan of Andre Segovia and it is possibly that’s where my appreciation for the Classical guitar started. However most of the Segovia recordings I heard were primarily contemporary Spanish pieces, sombre and slow. However my first Bream recording introduced me to the courts of Medieval Europe and to the Lute. It's hard to describe the thrill of hearing him play. To hear the range of sounds he produced from the same note. The Lute sounded more and more alien the longer I listened. It has an interesting history which you can find some of here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lute. It is even harder to describe the moment I finally found footage of him playing.

He's a small bald man who throws himself in to every piece he plays. Leaning into the guitar like a boxer absorbing punches. His face gurns during each bar of music and I love him for it. That's not the gushy luvvy 'Love'. This is the love that comes from being held spellbound, by someone so technically adept and immersed in the music. Watching other guitarist like Williams or even the old man Segovia - there is physical detachedness from the piece. Perhaps it is a more cerebral experience for them.

Listen to the recording above and catch him in action here:

2006-10-25T09:59:00.000+01:00

Julian Bream - Lute Suite No.1 In Em (Bach J.S.

Written entry to follow.

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Cars and Bikes

2006-10-19T10:29:00.000+01:00

The Dumb Riffs blog, put me onto Enrique Peñalosa, the former Mayor of Bagota who transformed Bagota's transportation and parks, just by focusing on groups other than road users. See the article here.

Dublin, despite the shiny Luas (new tram system) , is still a heavily congested nightmare for cyclists and pedestrians. We have a small opportunity next Friday (27th) to remind car users that there are others who use the streets and that cycling is a nice way to get around. OK chances are that we'll proabably alienate some tired commuters, but then did they really need to drive into the city in the first place?

So why not start Halloween off with a bit of Critical Mass bike fun. Invite friends and family, put away your reservations about making a scene , get into your costume early, head to The Garden of Rememberance for about 6pm, we will head off at 7.

Boat,party

2006-10-16T12:11:00.000+01:00

This weekend Gem and I met up with some friends down in Hazelhatch to look at the barges and narrowboats that line the banks there. Some people 'liveaboard' and we met with Mick who has a beautiful barge and has lived there for about a year.

Unlike the UK there aren't too many people that live on the river despite the fact that it's such a cheap alternative to the housing market. The river is generally a tranquil place. People visibly relax, even I found myself drifting off down stream.

We took the river feeling back to Dublin and that night we all drank ourselves merrily merrily merrily to a party next door at Siobhan, Barry and Kims. I have some fond memories of that night, I also have sore knuckles thanks to Karl and Neil.

Net Leeches

2006-10-14T12:33:00.001+01:00

So here we are. Hooked up to the vast communication network and what are we doing with it? Rather what am I doing with it? Often my use of the internet feels like that of a leech. I suck onto it, extract whatever I need and drop off when I'm sufficiently sated.

This is very much a one way interaction. Watching other people use the internet to communicate with each other and occasionally remarking to myself how rather jolly and wonderful the whole 'community' is. However I don't seem to view it as a community and it could be if I chose to interact with it.

What amazes me is that I'm sitting here alone and I'm still fearful of fully expressing myself, despite the fact that you can't see me, hear me, smell me or perish the thought touch me. Why? What have I got to lose? I know that physical interaction is not one of my strongest points. I've always found writing easier, but it's rare that I even do that and I come across so many net created opportunities to communicate. I know I'm not alone in this. Are you a net leech?

I've recently started making my first tentative steps to communicating with strangers and I don't know what the outcome will be, but it feels good to enter into a symbiotic relationship that may not just benefit me.

If you are a net leech and want to communicate then send me a link to your site or make a comment below.

How can Wallace Town be a better place for communication?

Spiderman 2 - hidden DVD extra!

2006-10-13T14:44:00.000+01:00

I've finally found the hidden extra on the Spiderman 2 DVD. Check it out here!

Sleepless 6

2006-10-11T09:50:00.000+01:00

In order for us to understand the decisions that Dr X famously made following his ‘awakening’ we must look back.

Before he became a Doctor, X had been a child and later an adolescent. Throughout these stages of development he had walked along tree lined paths, through fields of brittle sunlit corn or cold ploughed earth. If you’d seen him back then, he’d have been singing hymns, talking animatedly to himself and laughing out loud, investigating the bramble thickets with a stick or more often than not - swinging from a rope swing. X loved to swing. It wasn’t the carefree swing of youth though. It was practice.

He had become obsessed with Spiderman on one of the family’s annual holidays to the ‘Witterings’; a coastal village of thatched cottages, sand dunes and the aged. His usual want was to walk along the beach breakers and probe for crabs amongst the small tidal pools that gathered around their wooden bases, but that summer the wind had blown in from a different direction, the pools were empty and the seas rough. The family huddled in their beach hut, drank tea and read books and there he discovered Spiderman.

Spiderman was hope. Peter Parker the bespectacled scientist and photographer was real because his father looked just like him: glasses, tank top, and a job at a chemicals plant. Until reading the comic books, he had always wanted to be his father, now he could be both: a scientist and a hero. The initial appeal had been the costume and the muscles. Later it had become the swinging.

The swing he created, hung from one of the long limbed beech trees that lined the boundaries of a neighbouring field. Always it had a loop for his ankle, a loop for his foot, but over the years it would vary in length. One year it was long and he practiced swooping, just inches above the ground, shifting his weight to dodge invisible enemies or sometimes the local dogs. Another year, he swung high. 4 or 5 meters above the ground and controlled his fear of falling, by falling.

The young X never stopped practicing, but after a while he forgot why he needed to.

TBC

Britney Spears Naked

2006-10-11T08:57:00.000+01:00

To those of you who have entered this town thinking you could see a flash of Britney's perfect post-surgery nipples or her post-prega-nancy tackle. I don't blame you! You Lord Mayor has been looking for ages, and has been left to conclude that there is some sort of coverup (ha), going on. Surely something slipped out at some point in her vacuous career?

Anyway, I'll continue with my search, because 'I was porn to make you happy'.....oh sweet Jesus what am I doing with my life.