Icarus @ 59 # 109

March has marched through the wetlands of winter into spring and thank goodness, it feels like it has been dreich for ever and a day. Yesterday, brunch and fine coffee in Wai Kika Moo Kau was fine but for some reason the whole of Sunday was treated as a rest day for serious exhaustion for all of us in the house. This was probably another look back at the hundred days of winter we have endured. Boy does it make a difference to wake with bright mornings and with the clocks having shifted forward to summer time the evenings are longer too. Now this is the real time for resolutions, this is the real start to the year, surely. I have a couple of resolutions I am resolved to keep. As Pablo Naruda said, 'You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep the spring from coming.'

Icarus @ 59 # 108

It has been over twenty years since I last visited Vence Chapel or Henry Matisse, Chapelle du Rosaire des Dominicanes de Vence, as it is known, and it really is a monument to Matisse and his artwork. And reading the Gaurdian (sic) this morning I was reminded of it because there was a review of the forthcoming exhibition at the Tate, which begins on April 17th and I will definitely be trying to get tickets for that. But being in the chapel is extraordinary, because as these pictures show, the  big deal is the way the windows work with the colour. Truly, truly awesome and being bathed in the sunlight as it streams in is part of the charm, nay, part of the magic. It is also situated in one of the most beautiful places in the world, the Cote D'Azur, ooh I could live there.But as I was mulling that over, here is something I was considering, since yesterday was essentially turned over to lots of talk about gay weddings; no one has ever asked me the question, '...when did you first realise you were heterosexual?' I guess its too late now but there you go. I mean there was a time my dad raised an eyebrow at me because I read poetry and liked art, well he's the book reader now and the last time I saw a major art installation it was with him and Alex Sharp.  And indeed he has been known to attend dance performances and song recitals. Next time I see him I am going to ask, 'when did you first realise you appreciated the arts?' The coal miner might even be middle class (like his academic son). But moving on, what about this wee working class Irishman doing great soul music, turn on your radio, turn it on, turn it on, turn it on and we can see what's really wrong...in my humble opinion, this was the best track on this movie, The Band and Van the Man kicking up a storm on Caravan with a great horn section, listen to how it builds and builds, awesome - and everything I have posted this morning is designed to say, I have a half full glass: happy mother's day. I miss my own mother so much and its only been a year and a wee bit, but if I could tell her anything it would be, 'hey, we're fine, all is good... all is good... all is good...' C'mon Van, cheer us up:

Icarus @ 59 # 107

Yesterday staff and students on my campus had a wee party to celebrate the legalisation of gay marriage. And the pink blossom was in abundance as a celebration. And yet the arguments rage. As I sit in my kitchen I am listening to a disgraceful bigot who said it can't me a marriage because it can't be consummated - well, apart from getting into the bodily functions is that really the argument? What happened to love? While I am happy to agree there should be no bias of opinions on BBC radio (and I am pro some censorship because its not censorship but the self-appointed censors that worry me) as the radio presenter closed the discussion down I am glad he did so with the pro arguer's point of view prevailing while the bigot appeared to have been silenced. Its a day to celebrate not berate, its also a great day for common sense and an exercise in approving free will. Let all who wish to marry do so with our best wishes - now prime minister, asylum seekers next I think, may they also be free to dance on Solsbury Hill, my heart goes boom, boom, boom...

Icarus @ 59 # 106

Even in the rain, I like stumbling across pockets of oddness and I like the way the arches down by Brighton beach constantly change hands. You take a stroll or cycle down and you never know what's going to pop up next. But like all seaside towns, those of us who live in them enjoy them better before the summer season kicks in. Come a sunny day in July this will be heaving with people. What I spotted this week was a new art shop which I hadn't seen before and will visit again. But if you walk from here you get to Jamie McCartney's studio, most famous for his Great Wall of Vagina... hah, got your attention now. It is a nine-metre polyptych made out of plaster cast and composed entirely of vulvas, four hundred of them. That four hundred women would donate their time far less sit there while someone took a plaster of paris cast of their most intimate parts in the name of art is in itself a feat but there was nothing creepy about it and you can read about it here: http://brightonsource.co.uk/features/the-great-wall-of-vagina/ Now he is back in the news for producing a breast cancer awareness poster and you can read about it here, even buy it if you like http://sussexartbeat.com/2014/03/11/jamie-mccartney-creates-breast-cancer-awareness-posters-with-25-to-charity-now-he-needs-models-for-the-next-one-get-involved/ It keeps the world turning and much more interesting than it sounds in a wee blog like this. And just to add the ambiguity, because Brighton is such a gay town and tomorrow will see the first gay weddings in the UK, we can have the TRB (some of you will get the connection):

Icarus @ 59 # 105

Its cold and dark and five in the morning and my body says I should be sleeping, still. But I have to drive to Winchester so I am up, multi-vits taken, early grey brewing, cats clawing at the kitchen door and I am trying to persuade my body that it really is awake. I awoke at three-thirty this morning, inevitable when you know you have an early start, and as I tried to squeeze the last dregs of sleep from the night I had Gutai images floating around in my head which reminded me of New York. They first time we went to New York I was truly excited to be visiting the Gutai exhibition in the Guggenheim. I had read about it and the endorsements were great so imagine my disappointment when Dan asked, 'what do you think?' and I answered, 'its rubbish.' The art was so unbelievable poor which just goes to show, you can't trust the manifesto alone. Ah well, and that is what I was mulling over at four in the morning. And at four in the morning I heard this song in my head - a real New York song with a great opening line:

Icarus @ 59 # 104

Yesterday was a wet rainy day, not the best day to show a young Australian around the town but I still managed to take this picture from the beach. But today is cake day for Diane who is raising money by running the Brighton Marathon for a Brighton hospice. While getting sponsorship, her office has a cake day to raise more so its all in a good cause. And yesterday these were donated for that cause. I like cake, I confess, but being on a gluten free diet I no longer eat them - can't be bothered baking them just for myself. But that's ok, life is good enough without them. But even with a stroll around Brighton and cakes and good cheer abounding, its not hard to pause and take time to think about others. Dan and I are talking about setting a small Toys for Tanzania charity - when he was there one of the kids in the orphanage used Dan's sandal as a toy car, making all the usual car noises children do. The idea is a small one and one we would link to a water-aid type project too, oh and the hospital needs a scanner, not a new one, just one... there are so many causes and so many people less fortunate, your heart would break just thinking about them. So I guess small things - not to repair that heartache - but to help elsewhere, if possible. Anyway that's what occurred to me this morning as I rose to greet the early morning cold and sunshine. Happy Wednesday! I have fond memories of all three of these artists in their prime, and Bonnie Raitt sings this better now than she did all those years ago - and they can still say it, yay:

Icarus @ 59 # 103

After yesterday's post, Cllr. Gordon Munro (aka my mate Rocky) and I have agreed to edit our own poetry anthology entitled, The Rocky Road to a Full and Happy Life. It will address the following theme, Why cry? Why not laugh, love, share, enjoy, treasure? There! They can keep their making men cry anthology, who needs it. I feel taller today, which is the title of this W. H. Auden extract:

Taller to-day, we remember similar evenings,
Walking together in a windless orchard
Where the brook runs over the gravel, far from the glacier.
Three people, two guitars, a kalimba and three voices made this sound in what looks like an old school hall - laugh, love, share, enjoy and treasure because rivers run:

Icarus @ 59 # 102

There is a new poetry anthology being launched in April. It is called, Poems That Make Grown Men Cry and the clamour for bragging rights by the contributors is extraordinary. And they are all there, from Daniel Radcliffe to Simon Schama. Isn't it extraordinary, you have to get them together like a rugby team before they can come out of the emotional closet and the rest of us are supposed to buy it in empathy... well perhaps I am being a little unfair, but we are such a closed up, buttoned up bunch us British men. I can also reveal the top choice was W. H. Auden and here is an extract from his Lullaby:

Lay your sleeping head my love,

Human on my faithless arm...

Personally I would have chosen Neruda, or Rilke and then as I started writing my own personal list began to grow, ah well. What I can't really decide on is the rationale behind the anthology, except that it is raising money for Amnesty International (which is why I will buy it) but when Kate Allen, the British Director of the charity said, "We hope that this anthology will encourage boys, in particular, to know that crying - and poetry - isn't just for girls," I found myself thinking, well there you go, in an effort to address gender stereotyping we are given, umm, a gender stereotype - it was Dante who wrote:

Midway upon the journey of our life

I found myself within a forest dark

For the straightforward pathway had been lost...

I have lived with these lines all my life, and still the pathway eludes. I posted this track recently, but still it lingers. This tough old rock and roll boy had no idea, about gender and poetry, did he? Happy Monday morning, the sun is shining, the early grey tea is fine and I still miss...

Icarus @ 59 # 101

And so today, watching the team, Southwick Rangers, and supporting them and organising and helping and changing tactics, with the artist Paul Fullylove, Dan was back and on the bench (of course, he's been in Africa). And he saved two certain goals, one with his head at the back post the other with, hmm, now close your eyes because every footballer knows how this goes. It was a corner, the ball comes over, gets knocked back but the guys on the post daren't move - and he didn't - so when the ball was cracked back at pace to the near post, than man on the line gets his body in the way - that's his job. Hmm, well body is an exaggeration, I think the word is goolies. He was a man, he manned up, stood his ground, cleared it off the line, 'Well done Dan Melrose...' came a call from Gavin, the centre forward...' Dan cleared the ball, jogged on and we lived on; in the cup we we are in, a 0-0 draw is actually a result. But for me, today, this wee man (in the picture ands going to his first football match at Brighton and Hove Albion) is a big man. Taller than me by a good 5 inches and I love him to bits. Me, I haven't changed much from this picture, Dan has - handsome boy. And this track is Ry Cooder and 'Brother is Gone,' the mandolin at the start is an east meets west thing but its from the Election Special album which everyone should listen to... and if Dan ever reads this post he will recognise the sound because I play my mandolin a lot - oh, and I can play this.

Icarus @ 59 # 100

Well now, I have reached the ton, 100 days (not of solitude and thinking about Gabriel Garcia Marquez). When I first moved to Brighton, I lived in Kemptown and today, this my hundredth of my sixtieth year, I was sent this picture from Brisbane (thanks Jen). Look how we travel, ten thousand miles away but taking pieces of our past with us. I carry Gowkshill, Gorebridge, Newtongrange, Dalkeith, Musselburgh and Edinburgh are my veins. They are all part of the heartbeat of my life. I have flown into Brisbane, on the way to Byron Bay, and flown back from it, only pausing to spend time in the wonderful QAGOMA which is the Queensland Art Gallery and Gallery of Modern Art. Australia is a country I adore and I will spend some more time there - in time. And I will think about these guys, especially because Nick Cave and I were in the same changing room trying on jeans, only last year but also because they are me fave Oz band - on yer (or something equally colloquially cliched from down under.) We like our kittens white, so we can see them in the night...

Icarus @ 59 # 99

Two days in Winchester, meetings, working, teaching, a sneaky glass of wine with colleagues before watching a version of Pinter's, The Lover which was followed by a new play called The Stranger. Phew, I am puggled by the hi brow. So this late post is my way of say precisely that - i'm puggled a lot, its a good job its Friday night, and wine time. Cheers - time for a new take on an old song!

Icarus @ 59 # 98

Now here is a curious one. Yesterday I wrote about Southpaw, which were one of the best groups I ever played in. And we had such a time growing up with the music and learning to play. And then today I wrote a new song, used a whole different set of chords to the ones I have been using recently and out it popped - a Southpaw song; a song I would have presented to the band. And I can hear it now, Brian Anderson picking out the bass notes and asking me if I am sure I want to make that major, minor to a seventh shift, and Davie Jack would be feeling his way around the chords on his twelve string and looking for a way to make the vocals his own, sorting out where he wanted the harmonies, John (Lightning Slim) Stirling would be working out whether to play slide or mandolin, probably settling on the mandolin, and I would want to play my Strat on it (in the picture its second from the left - 1961, genuine original, 14 years old when I bought it and now, goodness, its 53 - because I always wanted to play my Strat and harmonica when they would let me) and then within ten minutes or so the whole thing would come together. I will put it up online some day, after I have sorted it and recorded it and all that - its called, It Was Only A Tuesday. But its a band I would like to write for again - maybe its time for a Southpaw @ Sixty reunion - how nostalgic is that, Alex Sharp and Davie Jack? Almost as nostalgic as this song which we used to play... 

Icarus @ 59 # 97

I have always absolutely adored the Rolling Stones, ever since my mum said how much she hated them when watching Get Off My Cloud on TOTP. But how the world turns on celebrity culture in this disgraceful tabloid culture we have in the UK. The treatment of Mick Jagger in a time of grief has been nothing but shocking and I really do worry about people who read the rubbish that our tabloid press produce. Leveson was supposed to have stopped this, we have the Murdoch, etc enquiries going on now and yet still the crap press print more and more of their crap. They say its what people want and yet so few buy the bloody things how can they? I would name the editors as arses but I would rather just express my disgust. Should it be forgotten that what the Stones did was give us pleasure in a sound they produced? I am thinking of them now - name a bunch of white guys who do this stuff as well as them. I remember where I was the first time I heard this song and when it was. 1976, I was twenty, playing with Southpaw who would give the Mumfords et al a serious run for their money. We had just played a great gig and had collected in someone's house for the rest of the night (probably Davie Jack's or John Stirling's) as I drove home in my two-tone, cream and maroon, Ford Anglia, the sun was coming up over Dalhousie Castle and Cockpen Church (I was driving the craw road home - I loved driving through country lanes at that time of the morning) I was probably wearing Levi jeans and a scruffy t-shirt, hair shoulder length, my Fender Strat (which I still have) and my Yamaha acoustic which I don't have, stowed in the boot - aye, you'd be a fool to cry. Go on Mick, you are a jack-the-lad but you have always been a top bloke in my musical life:

Icarus @ 59 # 96

Look who came to dinner, yay the boy is back. After a 50 hour or more journey, 9 hours by bus and the rest by two flights he is back hogging my sofa. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him, of course I did that is normal. But to see him come back after such an amazing experience, just before he goes off again (USA and Australia beckon) isn't it great to see them growing up and on and away... yay, I say to that. I remember my sister Debbie telling me about her son Josh going off to Thailand to work on a charity building project, Dan has been in Africa working for Medicare (in a hospital and orphanage), life experiences are about experiencing life. Long may these boys continue to care about what goes on around the world. I have heard it referred to as middle class tourism, but sod them who say that; if one in every hundred kids who do these things go on to do more then surely that is a result? Besides, the world needs good people, rather this than the Bullingdon Club I say. Yay, Dan, good to have you return telling me you want to go back and do good things. I am already proud of that fact. All I can offer is the usual Africanism of Angelou and the Ladysmith boys, but hey, I have my thoughts...

Africa

Thus she had lain
sugercane sweet
deserts her hair
golden her feet
mountains her breasts
two Niles her tears.
Thus she has lain
Black through the years.

Over the white seas
rime white and cold
brigands ungentled
icicle bold
took her young daughters
sold her strong sons
churched her with Jesus
bled her with guns.
Thus she has lain.

Now she is rising
remember her pain
remember the losses
her screams loud and vain
remember her riches
her history slain
now she is striding
although she has lain.

by Maya Angelou

Icarus @ 59 # 95

A bike can't take a selfie but I can and you get the picture: hat, glasses, scarf (to look rakish), headphones, playing Steve Earle (its on shuffle and I do like a nice surprise). Yesterday morning I pushed the bike out, wiped it down and then... yes, leg over still remember, how satisfying was that, oh yay! So yesterday, I played guitar, wrote a song, hung out the washing, cycled around Blaker's Park and surrounding terrain and generally had a morning in the sun. What a way to spend a Sunday morning. One of the best things about cycling with your iPod on shuffle (yes I know I shouldn't wear it) is the odd tune which slips in by surprise, and you think, ooh, I remember that and then when you search for it you find you share it... its spring and there is only one song for it, this is # 4:

Icarus @ 59 # 94

I am going to spend part of the morning writing and part of it playing this at the back door. Its Sunday, I am entitled to give myself such a break. And I might play this song (below #3) because I like the way it just eases off the strings. It was a harvest moon last night, full white and bright against a midnight blue sky, just right for dreamers and dreaming. And as I was watching the moon last night, I was thinking about the word 'contretemps', not because I use it a lot, I don't think I ever have, but it came up in something I read and I was intrigued. Also, its one of those European words that has different meanings. In English it is an accident, a mishap, or a hitch, certainly something unexpected; Robert Burns used it in To A Mouse;
On proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
gang aft aglay...
Which means (to translate) even the best laid plans go awry. But the French idea of the word contretemps is different, they translate it as 'out of time,' 'off beat,' 'out of sync,' and in that sense we can have some control over it. Don't we all feel like that sometimes? We know the train track goes one way as long as you have one wheel on each track but let's be honest, most of us walk with one foot on the road and the other in the ditch. Most of the time we can stay on track and can drag the dodgy leg back but other times, well, we begin to stagger because we want to linger, stay awhile, get off the beaten track, have a drink, stay out late, take the 'craw road' (surely its not just me)... its a contretemps, and I am having a contretemps kind of year with the dodgy leg which is stuck in the ditch. For the purists the guitar I am playing today (for I have many to choose from - although this is my fave) is a Norman with an Indian rosewood fingerboard and a wild cherry body - mine is no longer this white but a mellowing cream as it ages (and sounds better than it did when I got it - and it was great then)... all of that and still last night we had a harvest moon:

Icarus @ 59 # 93

Its been a long year, or so it seems. Finally getting some good news about this damn leg but it will be a long haul. Never mind, the sun is shining today and I might just take a stroll to get the creases out of my furrowed forehead, the cricks in my neck and the ache that follows me around as I try to get myself back to fitness. And actually, from where I am sitting I see the shed, which has my bike and I can feel the draw...

Icarus @ 59 # 92

Oh dear, its 5am in the dark and I am getting ready to run to Winchester. So I will write more on this later. But yesterday it was Paul Simon with #1 of forgotten great songs, this is #2 and Lucinda Williams with Metal Firecracker:

)

icarus @ 59 # 91

One of the most curious sites to be seen in Barcelona is the Museu De Erotica. I've seen it, it was just a block away from where we were staying. I didn't go in (and you will have to trust me on that) but there were some young Catalonians handing out flyers and trying to persuade us to give it a go. As you can see from the picture too, the offer of a free drink and WiFi isn't the usual offer for any museum. I just thought I would tell you about this - no real reason except the acknowledgement that the world is a big place and caters for many tastes. But actually too, I wouldn't want anyone to think I was in any way, thinking about... hiding it behind my newspaper over my face idea of saying it out loud, that, umm, I am opposed the idea of erotica. I'm not! There! Its out, goodness, what a strapped up race we Scots are. Next time I am in Barcelona I am going to check this out. Then again, I might be 60 then and what would that say about me... phew, hard to negotiate this PC business. And sometimes we just have to acknowledge one the best songs ever written, which no one ever seems to mention, this is a start, I will try to identify more, peace like a river...

)

Icarus @ 59 # 90

"I really do think that the crowning glory of **** is that we've always managed to disappoint in the big occasions. When the chips were down, we never came through." Wouldn't it be great if we could fill the **** in on this and attribute it to everyone who ever let us down, politicians, bosses, friends and lovers. It is actually attributed to Jonny Rotten of The Sex Pistols and it shows the kind of paradoxical honesty of the punk movement (which Rotten couldn't really claim to represent). I haven't been to Edinburgh recently because travelling is a problem right now. Maybe today I will get some kind of green light on that, we'll see. I walk with optimism. And yesterday I was thinking about Australia, goodness knows if I will ever be able to travel there again. But its hard to think about that wonderful land without also thinking about the cracks, they have a horrendous immigration policy which our own UKIP people admire (hmm) but they also have that past and the need to juggle the two is something the liberal Australians spend a lot of time fighting. Its not my fight, of course, but I can observe and lend solidarity and remember Archie Roach singing from from little things, big things grow - optimism:

)

Icarus @ 59 # 89 ( a wee extra)

At the closing of the day (it was only a Tuesday) I found myself listening to some music and reading (Red Doc by Anne Carson for anyone interested). Normal stuff, just a wind down, thinking about tomorrow and then this music came on - because I had my tunes on shuffle - and I thought I might share it as a bonus track. Its a good way to say goodnight, although its called Where Were You? I know how Jeff Beck does all of this, the echo, the harmonics, the violin bowing and tremolo arm technique, I even have this guitar, but wow, this is a master class.

Icarus @ 59 # 89

Ok, I know its early and I haven't heard the radio this morning but I was listening last night and Flight MH370, which vanished from radar en route to Beijing from Kuala Lumpur, is still missing. Just like that. How does that happen? Oops, one of our jets with two hundred and thirty nine people on board (two of them with false passports - that we know of) just flew behind the sun. And can you imagine the people waiting on the ground for news? It has been said one of the 'men' on board with a fake passport is a nineteen year old Iranian asylum seeker. Nineteen, goodness,that is 'almost' a man, no more than a man child. Its pretty scary stuff and it reminds us how small we really are in the world. And it also reminds us the world is full of desperate people. People desperate for a better life than the one they have, goodness but the whole world should be ashamed of Manus Island and also the asylum seeker's experience of years of a Kafkaesque legal nightmare in the UK, but its worse than that really - women and children are trafficked, exploited, abused, we really don't like those 'other' people do we? Well some of us do but for some reason the 99% struggle to be heard. I am marking assignments and the Civil Wars are on in the background, they are singing Barton Hollow tracks but I might get the new one since they have now split up:

Icarus @ 59 # 88

Yesterday spring arrived on the south coast and it was braw, such a nice day to be out and about, snapping with a camera. I like the line of this picture as the barrier walks us down to the sea from the top of the beach. I was having a wee stroll, contemplating the morning because this was  8 a.m. in Goring by Sea, which is about thirty miles along the coast from Brighton. I was thinking about Rilke's Walk, and being grasped by what we cannot grasp:

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance -

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

This is The Karine Polwart Trio singing the wonderful Michael Marra's, Like Another Rolling Stone. A lot of Marra's work can be a little over-sentimental for my liking and this gets close, but not too close.

Icarus @ 59 # 87

Another Folon to start a Sunday morning, its bright outside, the early grey tea is warm and sweet (laced with honey) and I wish I was getting my bike out of the shed. Alas, not yet and it will be some time before I do. But never mind, yesterday it was recommended I listen to Rachid Taha, its never too early to Rock El Casbah. Me? See the picture, I'll be flying...

Icarus @ 50 # 86

One of my favourite artists is the late Jean-Michel Folon, I stumbled across his work in Camden Market (of all places) circa 1984 and I have always liked the way he uses subjects (like this guitar) and colour. He has also painted a series of flying characters, which sits well with my Icarus fascination. I don't own any of his works, though I do have some prints in my study (which I can see right now, as I sit at this desk typing). But I also realise while I sit here, right now, that I have 4 picture frames sitting on the floor. I collect frames I see in charity shops and junk shops in the hope that a picture pops up to fit them and I have some framing to do this weekend. One piece is a black and white print from New York and the other a small butterfly piece from Australia. My favourite piece at the moment is one I have in my kitchen. It is the Amazing Juggling Fish by Kate Lulham, who is a very good friend of mine. I just love the sense of humour in it. And you can see her work here:  http://www.katelulham.co.uk. Eclectic is the best way to describe my taste. Much as I would like you to walk into my house and it would represent a MOMA of taste, I am afraid I cheerfulness kept getting in the way. But on the subject of Folon, here is, by coincidence, one of my favourite songs of all time - a translation has alluded me up until now, although this film gets me every time:

fôlon, é té nyinika
fôlon, né té nyinika
fôlon, a toun bé kè t'ni dén
fôlon, ko kow koun bé kè
fôlon, môgow ma koté
In the past, no one questioned to you
In the past, no one questioned to me
In the past, that’s how it used to be
In the past, whatever happened
In the past, no one wanted to know

Icarus @ 59 # 85

This is me in my thinking chair and I have been thinking lots about thinking, some times we can do it too much. I mean sometimes we should just write what we feel, or see... I have thought about this before so I am repeating this when I say, Italo Calvino has suggested that we may distinguish between two types of imaginative process: "...one that starts with the word and arrives at the visual image, and the one that starts with the visual image and arrives at its verbal expression." And if we think about it this can be extended to five through the senses and then beyond using the combinations of them. This had me musing about the sixth sense, not one which we use to hear, see, smell, touch or taste but the one that makes us feel, for what sense records joy or pain or anger or love and then there are the associates, desire, passion, none of them being a visual or a verbal expression. Writing "oh" so it can be seen as a visual image on this page, or uttering "oh" so it can be heard as a response to a visual seems to deny the expression its wider legitimacy when it is even a silent reaction to the sixth sense concentration of the soul miner. And this clip is an "oh" for the ears and eyes and a wonderful heartbeat, can you smell it, taste it, feel it echo inside as something indescribable. Just thought I would share it - it helps me with writer's block... click on the link I have no idea what he is singing but ''oh'' and I am thinking about Dan in Africa right now - oh, and if I could bottle this without the singer I would write my own version, but it wouldn't be better because I just think this is the bees knees:

Icarus @ 59 # 84

In 1962, Søren Kierkegaard wrote, 'A revolutionary age is an age of action; ours is the age of advertisement and publicity. Nothing ever happens but there is immediate publicity everywhere.' Goodness knows what he would make our new 'twittering' and 'facebook' culture. No sooner does a problem present itself when every one connected to the news can have a comment. But to what end? Even this blog, a millstone if ever I conceived one, gets close to the irreverent and the irrelevant. We could say, but that's just how it is these days, except it isn't, is it? Everywhere we look the lessons of our own past seem to be long forgotten, look at Ukraine, Darfur, Syria, man and woman's ability to mess with his or her fellow man or woman is astonishing. Baudrillard says, 'It is no longer a matter here of philosophical morality of the sort that says, 'the world isn't what it ought to be,' or the 'world isn't what it was.' No, the world is as it is.' What a depressing thought that can be when we balance my easy life with that of the people Dan is helping in Tanzania (say). But then what seems to be missing is a sense of balance, the equilibrium, the ability to live and let live but also to help those less fortunate to help themselves. This year is the centenary of the first world war which was meant to solve these problems. On reflection, surely not a time for celebration but for the amazing Dick Gaughan and Why Old Men cry - just as a wee reminder for myself and as the lyrics open up, as folk songs often do, it mentions the community I come from, its one of the few songs in the world ever to mention Newtongrange (Nitten by the bing) - a coal mining community that now has no active pit, but a mining museum - and my Dad, who was a miner, lives in that community, as a living exhibit: 

Icarus @ 59 # 83

Today is the beginning of Lent. To some it is the period leading up to the Holy Week called Easter and the preparation of the believers through prayer, penance, repentance, almsgiving, atonement and self-denial. Self- denial, is the part most associate with and recognise. Lots ask, what shall I give up, what shall I do without, so here is mine. During this period of lent and in the spirit of self-denial: 

I will not.... 

...will not be consumed

I will not entertain... in any shape or form

and finally, definitely no...

In turn, I will reverse my apathy to...

and ... will definitely be a positive change

oh, and I will definitely start doing ... again.

There, that should do it, I feel better already. I can't see it leading to my own personal enlightenment but in approximately six weeks time maybe I will be able to say, with a smile and a wee chuckle, the gates of love have budged an inch I can't say much has happened since.... though I have a smile on in anticipation, its closing time...

Icarus @ 59 # 82

Books for Amnesty is a another wee shop in Brighton which is well worth visiting, there is always something to buy at a reasonable price, or indeed to donate for free so they can sell it on. But I am really pleased this sign doesn't say Amnesty for Books. Imagine if a shop like that was the only place where books were free to be viewed. And you can imagine what it would be like if that was the case, police raids on a regular basis, Pussy Rioters turning up to do readings, and across the road Special Branch would have cameras trained on those who were browsing... any kind of tyranny or obstruction of freedom must be a terrible thing. Ooh, I remember where I was when I first heard this song - it was 1970, in Oban, hitching a lift on a boat to Iona. The guy who owned the boat had Imagine on an eight track loop - remember them - but the most amazing thing happened on the crossing. We were just hitting the middle of the straight when a bloody great whale rose out of the sea about twenty yards from us. Bigger than the boat by half again, it was one of the most exhilarating things I have ever seen in my life. I can't believe it was so long ago.

Icarus @ 59 # 81

Wild Nights – Wild Nights! 
Were I with thee 
Wild Nights should be 
Our luxury! 
Futile – the winds – 
To a heart in port – 
Done with the compass – 
Done with the chart! 
Rowing in Eden – 
Ah, the sea! 
Might I moor – Tonight – 
In thee!
I like Emily Dickinson's work, not in huge swathes but in snatches, caught in a glimpse here and there. The ambiguity and the passion from someone who led such a sheltered life. This poem is called Wild Nights - Wild Nights and I guess we could all do with some of them. I am not dismissing that opportunity out of hand - not yet, but last night I mulled that thought over as I sat in front of the fire, thinking maybe tomorrow... ah, these days...

Icarus @ 59 # 80

Part of academic life is the wearing of gowns and funny hats. It might not look obvious to some, but this is a brace of Professors in Winchester Cathedral (one of whom is also a Bishop). Whilst the clothing and Cathedral, the pomp and ceremony of our academic life, suggest a certain conservatism, both of us have strong socialist leanings too, even though we come from very different walks of life. Education is like that, ultimately its not about dress, and degrees and pomp and ceremony (much as I love it - and I really do) its about helping people to think from an informed position. That's what I truly believe and what we try to instil in those young people that are our students. I can honestly say, without any fear of contradiction, I really, really love my job and University life - its no perfect mind... but hey, I was talking to Dan last night and he is in Tanzania before he goes to University, and what a lesson he is already learning. He has always had a soft, caring attitude to life and this is being reinforced now. Good on him, its a mirror in a mirror and the perfect music for a calm Sunday morning; and it allows me to think quietly about my good friend Michael who will be undergoing surgery in Brisbane:

Icarus @ 59 # 79

Long Tall Daniel is having a great time in Tanzania, yesterday he worked in an orphanage as the Doctor took the hospital to them. What an amazing experience. He is much missed in the house but hey, who could deny the adventure. We have always liked The Four Brothers, a fave of Abbi's and mine, and so, because the sun is shining and we can just get music like this all day long, here they are: