Aggro found!

Sheep and Spaceman Tintin
Originally uploaded by Dark Hunter.

Colostomybag's missing piccolo player Aggro was today sighted on the moon with legendary Belgian cartoon spaceman 'Tintin'.

This news came as a massive shock to the band's loyal followers, as Aggro had once declaimed in fashionable Hoxton's Ziegfried that he "hated all that f*cking useless Belgian ruubbish" and that he'd "rather spank off a dirty monkey" than "go tae the moon wi' a wee orange boy".

Even the most tired and cynical of cr*ppy NME-stylee blag rags seemed surprised at this apparent contradiction.

So has Aggro finally flipped?
When will he run out of oxygen?
Does this mean that a Colostomybag reunion tour is in the pipeline?

And, more importantly, who cares?

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NEWSFLASH
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This just in - Tintin's agent Snowie claims to have signed Aggro to his label Labell. Snowie has failed to achieve world-wide success with Tintin after a series of hits with Flemish phlegm-warblers Gggraaaag.

In a shock announcement to the press, Snowie claimed that Aggro's unique piccolo technique would bring gravitas and little high pitched squeaks to the band's repetoire. Tintin's current percussionist, Captain Had Och Aye the Noo was said to be ecstatic about the new 'signing'.

"He'll bring a wee drop o' class tae the band", Haddock muttered. "And I've huurd he's no bad at the hurling, too".

343 Colostomybag fans hanged themselves worldwide after the announcement, which casts grave doubts on the likelihood of the band re-forming.

Bruxelles

Parade
Originally uploaded by Dark Hunter.

So I went to visit an old pal of mine (Kenzo from ColostoMyBag) in Brussels over ze weekend.

There was 4 inches of compacted snow that took 2 days to melt. My toes (and shoes) have not yet recovered.

Hence the Snowman lyrics in my last post.

FRIDAY
Eurostar a Bruxelles
Dinner in a charmant restaurant Vietnamois (?)
A Simple Plan on DVD

SATURDAY
A 3 hour walk around some Art Deco buildings and then into town
Watery Potage du jour
A strange unidentified procession through the snow (see picture)
Avant-garde C20th Russian Art at the BOZAR - Kandinsky, Malevich, Exter and others
Shopping
Dinner chez mon ami
Eurocrat party hosted by some Swiss guys - met the Czech European Council translators and two English guys working for Nestle - Swiss wine!
Walked across town at 1 am
Crazy French massage student party avec drum et bass - completement fou! - talked about metal and RPGs in French, much to mon surprise
Walk home in the snow at 4 am

SUNDAY
Streetfighter 2 HYPER
More walking in snow - Art Deco
Big Bacon Maxi Menu
Watched a car crash
Eurostar home

Woof!

Really enjoyed it. Remind me to go again some time.

We're drifting over ice

Deflowered
Originally uploaded by Dark Hunter.

"Children gaze
Open mouthed
Taken by surprise
Nobody
Down below
Believes
Their eyes"

Actually two children did walk past me doing the nasty to this tree in frozen Brussels, of all places. I hope they weren't traumatised. I was rather embarassed, although it doesn't show in the photo...

Socio-linguistic identifiers

We're trained by parents and school to judge people partly by their use of the English language. And the great thing about English is that it has two built-in social identifiers that allow people to judge others without having to ask awkward questions like 'what does your father do?' which happens in some other societies.

The two identifiers are:
Accent - basically regional OR public school
Vocabulary - Anglo-Saxon, French or Latin

Accent is probably pretty self-explanatory, but Vocabulary is a little more complex. English has three main roots - the three languages listed above - and for most pre-Renaissance concepts there are several alternative words one could use. These have all become jumbled up over time and sometimes have come to mean specific types of a thing, rather than different words for the same thing.

More to follow...

Deluze and Scutari

It's difficult trying to think whilst listening to Cult of Luna.

What makes it even harder is singing to yourself at the same time.

I'm never sure exactly how loud that sounds to everyone else.

I suspect it sounds pretty odd whatever, to be honest.

Da weekend

Finally got round to holding my belated birthday party.

Went out on friday night to Turnmills (Dave Seaman, Sister Bliss) which was odd - about halfway through the night I remembered I'd been there before. Danced for 3+ hours which I hugely enjoyed despite not even being trolleyed.

We tried to go to Fabric for DnB mashing but the queue was so long by the time we got that that everyone got cold feet (literally) so we ran up the road to Turnmills instead. Not so good but beats standing an extra 2 hours in the cold!

Sadly I missed out on a packed Synthetic Culture which was a shame. But you can't do everything. To be honest, anything at all on a friday night is a bit of a bonus considering all the collapsing I've done in recent weeks.

The party was good - some randoms halfway through - even got a pair of custom-made Jin Kazama fighting trousers which are wicked. They are black with a flame on the bottom of the left leg. I'll have to learn the spinning kick now before I can properly use them. But it's a very good start to the year.

Sunday did nothing - not even most of the cleaning up. Monday off work so did some Xmas shopping but slightly peeved I've yet again failed to make it to Grace. Next week. Actually, no - I suspect not.

"Dance with the flames that he dictates"

Cult of Luna - Sleep

Leave me behind the black wall of decadence.
Burn it all.
Dance with the flames that he dictates.
Breathe in the smoke and get high on misery.
Drifting deeper.
The current drags you down.

Rest your eyes.
Live amongst the shadows.

Fall into sleep.
Walk through the light.
At last you're on your own.
This time you stand alone.

As if by magic

the shopkeeper appeared.

No, that's not right.

As if by magic, and as if it was finally taking me seriously, Blogger accepted the update to my profile.

Feanor fever

I realised last night whilst having dinner in Finsbury Park that I have become a Tolkien anorak.

I think I spent most of my teens careening perilously close to that particular precipice, not mention any number of other fashion faux-pas fissures. But now my late twenties have arrived (despite my blog profile refusing to accept me increasing my age!) I feel I have tumbled into the terrible trough of obsession.

I'm reading Lost Tales 1 which is a real test of my theory. The book is an exploration of JRR's earliest writings about Middle Earth and the Elves and Valar. He definitely improved on them, that's all I'll say.

But I finally noticed that I was basically applying textual criticism and pretty thorough continuity analysis to a whole career of creative writing. And shaking my head when I read analysis that I disagreed with. So it's almost like my degree.

Which can't be quite right.

But the more I read (apart from the three almost identical versions of a very dull 'Elven' poem in Lost Tales, makes me more interested. Not less.

Is there a way back? Can I reach my own blessed land where my troubles and thoughts will be eased away by the divine beauty of it all?

I think I can guess the answer.

Torn into the deep of the Ocean

Down in Eastbourne on friday after Dundee the week before. I'll have done every town in Great Britain by the time I'm finished here.

Got back really late on friday night and hence did nothing.

Put some more pictures up on saturday (my Claude - embarcation of the Queen of Sheba, and D's Canaletto - Grand Canal). They look good although we now probably need another picture to fill the wall.

Watched the All Blacks rinse Ireland 45-7 and then England beat Argentina in injury time 3-2. An amazing game! Came from behind twice to beat probably the best or second best team in the world. I really feel like we've got a shot at the World Cup if we can play like that.

Then went to Clapham for my Spain reunion. 'Twas a fantastic laugh despite me turning up only for pudding (missed the rest of the meal due to forgetting when to leave and then watching the football). Went to the pub (bumped into some people from work) and then back to J's for more drinks and some Scalextric and San Juan. Top.

Staggered home via the Tate on sunday and then achieved very little except going shopping and then watching Rome which I fell asleep during anyway.

Really good weekend but I'm worrying effective today - I'm sure it's about to catch up with me...

The new flowerpot Men

The new flowerpot Men
Originally uploaded by Dark Hunter.

This seems like ages ago now. But we left Las Tinajas back in September which actually isn't that far back.

We're all meeting up for our reunion on Saturday which I'm really up for. It'll be just like the old days apart from the lack of sun, a private swimming pool, cheap wine and responsibilities.

Ah well.

Next summer isn't that far off...

"But now I've found
The Velvet Sun
That shines on me and you..."

The meaning of it all

It's too early in the day to write poetry.

You muppet.

"What if we walked side by side?
Would you snap my back and kill my pride?"
CoC

The primordial stirrings of the Never-born

Work is now hurtling towards insanity.

Too much to do to even start thinking about how to do some of it.

Eurgh.

And I've got to go to Eastbourne tomorrow.


Anyway - catch up:

Last weekend was interesting
My boss' leaving do Friday
Curry and ISS with Ben and Dave and Eda on Saturday
Chestnut (Ancient naval and weird WW2) on Sunday

pretty good...

Born Again

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday with all the usual commitment and organisation. Kate rang me at 4:30 and asked what I was doing. Went to the Fitzroy Tavern and almost got foolishly drunk. Stopped just short at the minor head-spin stage which was very wise.

But this wasn't my real celebration. That's next weekend. This was just the warm up.

Feel rough today despite my effective exercise of self-control. Damn and blast it. Maybe some coffee would be good...

Sang 'When tears roll down' by Tears for Fears on the way in this morning. Not for money but for the joy of it all. Although joy isn't perhaps the right word to use for TfF. For the shiny but fatally flawed caterwauling of it all... I must get out of the habit of singing on the tube or near work. One day it will backfire. I'll be singing something really nasty like 'Blood for Blood' or 'Touch Me' and the Chairman will be sitting next to me:

"Hate breeds hate - My eyes have seen the decimation of all that's pure, pure
A system that feeds its machine with the blood, sweat and money of the poor, poor"

Uplifting, isn't it?