I think it’s words for me because I seem to have been born with a predisposition to use them, in spite of not being a prodigious reader. Don’t get me wrong: I’ve read quite a lot of stuff, but I don’t devour. Actually, it would be my observation that those who devour tend not to be very aware of what they’ve read. Bookworms are by no means always very good at analysing literature, and often don’t see the point of it. Sound – because, as I’ve said before, I’m more aware of sound quality than picture quality. I also recently had a return to sound production and editing, when a colleague asked me to help put together an experimental podcast. Very much enjoyed the experience. I plan to do more. Techie stuff: well, it’s just very useful, empowering. I’m not into it for the sake of it, despite what some people think. Computer fairs and technology conventions don’t hold much appeal for me, if any. I like the absolute, unforgiving nature of technology. Appeals to my slightly autistic tendencies.
The finest, and they’re playing the Astoria in London from 1st to 4th December, performing all four of their albums consecutively, in their entirety: http://www.antimusic.com/news/08/oct/16Coheed_and_Cambria_Neverender_Tour.shtml. I’ll just have to imagine myself going, but given the choice there’s very little I’d rather do. Take in some London vibe during the day, show in the evening, couple of beers, bed. Beats eating paté foie gras to the sound of trumpets. But really I guess it’s just the modern equivalent. In other news our shower has packed up. Runs for five minutes and then dies. I only hope the Mira guy can fix it today. Baths are OK, but they send you to sleep – not great first thing in the morning. Seems we spend half our time thinking about how to extend the fabric or our lives and the other half trying to repair rips in the existing fabric. Problem is the rips tend to come from nowhere, quite unexpectedly, in groups of four or five.
Health warning – only for those who have needed to get out more for the last fifteen years…
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/7707016.stm
Came onto the scene at about the same time as my friend Hank was teaching me the basics of DOS (still comes in handy occasionally). My first successful home network setup was using Windows for Workgroups (3.11). Three machines connected with thin Ethernet cable and BNC connectors – one break and they all go down. How pleased with myself I was. Now, setting up a home network is about as unusual as building an Ikea flatpack. Tends to use wi-fi though – a technology as reliable as a Trabant running on moonshine.
I think I’m concluding that sound quality is more important to me than picture quality. Don’t get me wrong: I like both. But it’s a bigger deal breaker if the sound quality is crap. Decent sound equipment stands the test of time much better than video equipment too. My front speakers are more than twenty years old and they still deliver. Twenty year old TVs are pretty much skip material. My surround amp is seven years old – pure, clear, effortless. Also got a Marantz CD-52 mkII CD player off eBay a couple of years ago – about 40 quid as I remember, built around the time that Definitely Maybe was released, and still delivering sound quality that most modern low to mid range equipment can’t get anywhere near. Which is more than I can say for Noel and the boys, sadly. Finally, the Rel subwoofer I got off eBay last October – and travelled to London to pick up, much to most people’s puzzlement – has transformed my life in ways that few people can relate to.
Symbolically burning all that was worthless and all the vanities that were dragging me down. I guess it grew in my mind over the last week or so, having seen in B & Q those galvanised incinerators that I remember from the garden at Broad Oak Lane. For quite a few years running when the kids were little I used a makeshift thing with a steel tray and some bricks – and it was time to revive the tradition. There were a few things outside that needed burning anyway. So I swung by and got one on the way home. Then up to Asda to get some fireworks, forgetting that we had some at home from last year, or even the year before. Slight atmosphere of desperation in the fireworks queue at Asda, as if no-one would ever be able to buy fireworks again. Manager desperate to shift them. No receipt. Cash only.
The bonfire and fireworks went down well as a little surprise. All familiar. Sitting on the step with a beer and watching the fire while Matthew Wright intoned from inside. Small scale and subtle fireworks compared with the whizz-bang competition going on between neighbouring streets and houses in the murky sky. I thought of it too as kind of celebration of Barak’s win – and the hope it represents.