Icarus flying home # 5

Blue Jumper

I am wearing this jumperas I write  today, and I indeed look just like this; hair slightly longer than usual; eyes a wee bit baggy, brow furrowed but that's because I am writing the Bogeyman book and it has a lot of words and sentences that are, well, baggy! For example, "The child is not. Any more than the adult. It is an incomplete phrase (certainly not a sentence) made to make us think by supporting its hypothesis in the silences that exist in the meaning, hitherto unsaid, unwritten and inarticulate because it is aimed at imagining its articulation." What a load of baloney that might turn out to be - but since its surrounded by thousands of other words it might slip through. Though it is completely first draft and with all of these things, writing comes first and thinking in the edit, to think again and re-appraise, says he, hopefully. It has been an odd week for music because I have been so entrenched in writing and reading and more writing that it seems to have passed me by. So I thought I would dig out an old favourite because I am in the mood for it, partly because I don't understand it but it somehow I have an empathy with it. Also it has that hopeful melancholy (an kind of oxymoron I know) which I would send out to Japan. And while this is probably less authentic than it sounds, its hard not to be sad while hopeful at the same time.

Icarus flying home # 4

Ramadan Moon

Spring looms but its still cold and that is partly because the skies are clear. Last night while I was driving east I was watched over by the slenderest of moons, sitting low and as a fragile as a baby's cradle in a blanket of stars. It was just a sliver, even thinner than in this picture which is often called a Ramadan moon, where it is said, on the first day of Ramadan the moon can only be seen at dusk, very low in the sky for a maximum of five minutes. Now that is a coincidence because today is Shrove Tuesday and Lent begins tomorrow - well blow me down. And I have already made my Lent vow but I am not telling because its like a new year's resolution, the anticipation is in the breaking. So what this blog needs is a sign which confirms my will power in winning the battle I have set myself. Of course this will not be an epiphany moment, nor will it be a religious experience in preparation for Easter - it will be a simple good health resolution in self-denial, goodness, does that sound righteous? You don't know what you got 'til its gone - hey farmer, farmer, put away the DDT now... wish me luck...

Icarus alsmost asleep

I am almost sleep on my feet, I am so tired but this was sent to me and I had to post it because next to Peggy Seeger (for whom it was written by Ewan McCall) its just the bees knees...

Icarus flying home # 3

When I posted the Nina Simone track last time I loved the wee chat she gave at the start, when she said you can't do everything and, quoting, "... you use up everything you've got trying to give everybody what they want." Isn't great! But I thought, hmm, there is something I can give, being a generous soul that I am - so ladies, here it is, parking for girls! Next week it will be advice on the offside rule in football as I turn this blog into a public information site full of knowledge, wisdom, acumen, intellect, dialectic imagination, erudition and all that jazz. 

Icarus flying home # 2

I have a friend who likes Peugeot cars. Its an odd fetish, I guess, but when this picture also came round on the screensaver (where all my pictures end up) I was thinking about when we stood watching this as a porcupeugeot - a hybrid of animal and engineering. And I was thinking about Lee Skoresby, the aeronaut in His Dark Materials because what happens, all too often, with cinematography, is the images presented are all so nostalgic and old fashioned - and I often think, how would a 21st century Icarus look. I would like to think Scoresby eschewed the traditional, Lee Van Cleef, plus fours and tweed jacket idea of ballooning because, this, to me, looks like a great balloon to fly in. Unfortunately, though, cinematography relies on so much nostalgia (which is a visit to a place that never existed). This picture is actually part of the Sydney Bienalle exhibition and I have been feeling a little nostalgic about it because Sydney and Cockatoo Island and all of that was such a dream for this boy from a coal miner's cottage (cute description) who delivered papers and milk at the age of 13 and has been working ever since, and yet managed to travel right across the world - gawd, 43 years - and yet unsullied by any of it (well, maybe a wee bit) but hey, I am feeling quite good for someone who never flew (in an aeroplane) until he was 23... I am in a wistful mood, the dental drugs are kicking in and i am listening to Sandy Denny, who I posted before, but maybe I will post another version of the same song, why not, after all, who knows where the time goes - the great thing about Youtube is the way it catches people of camera - give this a go from start to finish, where does time go, what does it do... jeez, Nina Simone, wow, turn this up and wallow in her voice, its like swimming in chocolate...

Icarus flying home # 1

I have been thinking about semantic, syntactic and pedantic grammatical nuances and this picture makes me smile. Firstly, is there any "game" meat - I can just see an old kangaroo rolling over and saying, 'hey, fancy a bit o' bush, fella?' While an emu, says, 'no, eat me, eat me...' If this is some kind of indication that I am going a wee bit mad, well you are not wrong. The solitude of writing does that to a person, especially when he is writing stuff he has to rather than wants to. I took this picture in Canberra and as I was writing it flashed up on my screensaver so I just had to share it. The shop was next door to the hotel I was staying in - what were those Australians trying to tell me, huh? but what is hard to believe is that I was in Canberra in 2009! seems such an age ago. Where does time fly to when it flies, Icarus like out of the window? I have no idea - the recording of this song is a wee bit ropey but its Sandy Denny at her very, very best, its like she is sitting in the corner, who knows where the time goes: