Shownotes:For
“The Third”. Released on the 31/07/05.
&

or
? Louisa’s Gathering (photos)
? William Locked Outside (photos)
? Daily Source Code (podcast)
? The Dawn & Drew Show (podcast)
? The Chris Pirillo Show (website)
? Engadget (website)
? Tokyo Calling (podcast)
Read On »

I like formatting, I think it brings an air of
readibility to what is a queer ramble of a blog. This week’s a busy one and I’m
hoping to get some time to sit down with my buddy Will to record a third podcast
(get the first two here), who knows what we’re
doing it for – on a conscious level its about being heard and I guess that’s
enough of a reason to go on – oh it is good clean fun
too.At work I’m moving up from a
rocking month of Advertising to do some sales (which are booming under our new
brand-spanking new, no worries, no hastles, cheap-cheap-cheap product). Today
was uber-stressful buying… with other people’s money – it worked out fine I
guess.

Sometimes I feel like, I don’t
know.Sometimes I feel like
checking-out,I want to get it
wrong-Can’t always be
strongand
love
it won’t be
long…

-
Ultra-Violet
(Light My Way) by U2 – from Achtung
Baby (1991).I don’t like
this song in particular – but often I find myself
speaking/thinking the opening words of this (terribly
over-produced) tune… today was one of those days. Sometimes I
really
don’t know. Anything. Just find myself doing nothing, saying little, feeling
numb. And
in the style of some mental aristocratic-Russian-housewife of Chekov’s I stare
out of windows on to the tundra (wind swept field outside my
house).There are people (people in
particular – although Flickr does a good job of it) that can snap you out of
mindless melancholia, I like them… people that is – although I’ve said stated
the contrary many times in the past… I’ve also said in the past (when I say
past I mean archive)
that there’s a sweet difference between boredom – the mellow, peace out
lay-around variety – and melancholia – the not
so
sweet but bearably interminable tundra of the mind. I was bored before – I’m
verging on melancholia – I’ve spotted at least 10+ Seagulls in the
past few days and they all have it in for me. I’m not looking for sympathy by
the way – melancholia isn’t depression – ‘The “Depressed”‘ (we’re not talking
about that
lot) should be beaten
anyway…Anyhoo – I’m sure what I’m
lying in is just an extended version of that feeling I get when rocking parties
end, and from being surrounded by emotions and smiles I’m kicked back into the
world of deadlines and desks. (note: I don’t really have too many deadlines -
its a sham).Well, I’ll come up with
something less Poe later- and maybe I won’t use shameful attempts at
alliteration – its StuFest this weekend, and I’m hanging with the In-Crowd…
Then off to Blanes (last week went a bit crazy- so photoshoot was rescheduled).
I’ll try and get a podcast at you (my kind
listener)
by Sunday evening.When Bono sings “…
Love it won’t be long.” I wonder if he’s saying, the love you deserve will come,
or is it love’s intoxity is wearing off. I don’t for a second believe
love can
wear off (Ground Beneath Her Feet tells us love is only love – Rushdie wrote it
though…) but I imagine– forget that I just listened to the damn song and I
realised everything I’ve been explaining is neatly incorporated into the lyrics,
damn
me.Update:
Things got considerably better – it was a grand day and I imagine the weather
(so cloudy… and grey) was to blame for my earlier bemoanings. I was locked
outside my house for 3 hours, but I listened to 5 episodes from “The
Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy” – Radio 4 series… I also met Amy on the
streets, she’s back from Guatemala and seems to have all her limbs intact. I
went round for Emily – she was out – but I believe she’s just bought a new
laptop… with a 15.4″ Widescreen – I wanted to geek-out but no
cigar.

A man makes a picture
A moving
picture,Through the light projected
He can see himself up
close.A man captures
colour,A man likes to
stare,He turns his money into light to look
for
her…

-
Lemon
by U2 – from POP
(1993).My good friend
Saunders
is always trying and miserably failing to make a point. In
general; every breath, decision, heart-beat, glance etc. can be accounted for
and explained by the writings of some mad German who wanted to sleep with his
mother. I hope your getting my sarcasm (America!), anyway – in our last
semi-meaningful conversation the psychiatrists’ chair was occupied by none other
than my photographer’s finger. Why do I click so? Well, apparently it has
something to do with being a bit of a nostalgia fiend (something we’ve covered
here before) this much is true – capturing the moment being, as Kenny put it,
the Memory Man is a blast. I love to snap and organize photos in to libraries
and sets on Flickr… that part is fun too, but is probably unrelated to the
subject – i.e. taking photographs for Flickr’s sake… and I don’t do that
(honest).’Doc Saunders brought up a
further point… I take photos of some odd things; cups of steaming tea,
people’s feet, miscellaneous bedroom furniture, myself… I made the point that
no-one else was taking a photograph of it – so “why not?”. “Ah Hah!” so “you
take photographs of objects
because
no one else does!”, no, this is not the case – and I corrected her by explaining
we had reached in new plain of
stupidity…The answer is – as Bono
squeals in an elegy to Edweard Muybridge…
“Lemon“.
Photographs are sharp, on the tongue as well as the consciousness – a good
photograph (I’ve
Never
taken one) – is a moral decision taken in one eighth of a second, or one
sixteenth, or one one-hundered-and-twenty-eighth. “Snap your fingers; a
snapshot’s faster. Halfway between voyeur and witness high artist and low
scum…” (-Salman Rushdie).No, I’ve
complicated everything, again. I take photographs because I can – and because
they are a relevant evolutionary step (for better or worse who knows) on the
long trail to becoming a film genius, as of now I don’t understand light and
texture and f-stops –not really. The only way I’ll become Lance
Accord a good dp is
by studying the elements of film that, when cut down to 1/24th of a second (i.e.
a frame), are most important.To
conclude this ramble for today; every poem should be a novel, every musician an
artist, every dp a photographer, every photograph a representation of one eighth
of a second, or one sixteenth, or one one-hundered-and-twenty-eighth… reality
has nothing to do with either.