Scariest blog-post of the day

I found the following - let's say - slightly disquieting...

bitingblondewit: When Your Invisible Friend is a Killer....

Ai ai ai ai aiPod

(The title reads best when sung like the old O-o-o-o-Oros ad.)

Today I was smote by iGod, the small white thing (by 2004 standards) that claims to hold and protect my life. My music.

I must have angered it, browsed too long over its new incarnation, or used its name in vain. Possibly it just got tired of me dragging it around everywhere, dropping it indiscriminately, dressing it up in tight rubber suits and insisting it play alt.country playlists for 12 hour shifts. I angered it, methinks, and I paid the price.

It happened a little like PW. I switched on my laptop for the 1000^th time, launched iTunes for the 1000^th time, and watched in a sort of hazy, stoic horror how “updating iPod” for the 1^st time EVER actually meant “happily busy wiping 40GB of music”. Not syncing it with something. Not checking for updates. Not asking for permission. Not even blowing a raspberry. Just deleting. I’m in your base and killing your d00ds.

Everything was set to manual. I was running an old version of the software. I didn’t say OK to anything. It was perfect: me me me me. That’s who was supposed to control the functions and push the buttons. But iGod today frowned upon me me me me and decided to delete my complete 27 month collection, which is a lifetime in gadget-years. It decided to teach me a lesson.

I do have backups. I have an eMusic account, folders with stuff, external hard drive. I have the cd’s I’ve ripped, even the cd’s that ripped me off. It’s not about the music. What frustrates me most is losing what I don’t really need: my play history. No more checking to see if “I am happy but you don’t like me” by Asobi Seksu is still the most played song from 6,500 odd songs. Or contemplating whether I should actually listen to that one American Music Club song that hasn’t been played in 27 months. No more reflecting on my bi-monthly top 10 favourite song playlists since August 2004 and chuckling to myself. No more remembering which songs I have burned on which mix-cd’s for whom. No more of these things.

It’s like listening to vinyl!

It’s like forgetting to switch off Disasters and watching the aliens invade your beautiful SimCity.

I should be happy there is some history at Last.FM. Although I have to start afresh on the little white thing that displayed uncanny AI today, all is not lost. It’s all probably for the good…

[Ok, here I have to stop and say what a typical human way this is to react in the face of unnecessary, un-asked for Crap That Happens. I hate gravity, when things just fall out of your hands, for no reason. I hate stickers on cd's and books that can't be cleanly removed. I especially hate it when keys slip between the seat and middle-thing in a car. This is like that. Totally unnecessary and uncalled for and against what nature is supposed to be like if you ask me.]

…ahem, let me continue. Where were I? Oh yes. It’s all probably for the good. It makes you realise how ridiculous it is to be all Web 2.0 obsessed – checking your music, your links, your comments, your profiles, your neighbours, your friends, your contacts, your trackbacks, your updates, your peers, your avatars... and writing about it in your blog. It’s all so damn social. Involving humans. Eeew.

I have an iPod to fill up. It’s name is PollenPod and it used to be my friend.

yellow man

I was driving through Milnerton the other day and snapped this fellow with my cell-phone camera (hence the fuzziness).

Grinderman - when news is good

A member of the Goodson mailing list alerted the rest of us to one of the best pieces of news I've heard in a long time. Below is the full piece from mute.com:

Grinderman - Debut Album Out 5th March 2007
Foul-mouthed, noisy, hairy, and damn well old enough to know better, Grinderman are Nick Cave, Warren Ellis, Martyn Casey and Jim Sclavunos.

Born of babbling lyrics hatched from Bosch eggshells in the Hyde-bound apocalyptic margins of the Cave brain, the Grinderman sound is an instinctual yawlp that also resurrects the demons of each musician’s past: the trashcan proselytising of Birthday Party -era Nick; Sclavunos' late 70s New York no-wave noise wisdom; Martyn Casey’s ominous Triffids bass reverb; plus Ellis' avant-garde soundtrack work and his teenage love of Black Sabbath. Destination: Out!

Warren: "It was meant to be really open liberating thing, push those elements where we’d normally say ‘I don’t know about that’ and push on, relentless."
Nick: “We’re just searching for a bit of freedom"
Jim: "Ceaselessly banging away."
Warren: “Having Nick on the guitar changed the whole dynamic of the thing and threw us into a much more rudimentary ballpark."
Martyn: "It wasn't consciously two fingers to maturity but I remember thinking, all the way through, 'This isn’t bad for a bunch of old farts.'"

Nick Cave - Vocals, Electric Guitar, Electric Organ, Piano
Warren Ellis - Electric Bouzouki, Fendocastor, Viola, Violin, Acoustic Guitar, Hohner Guitaret, Backing Vocals
Martyn P Casey - Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Backing Vocals
Jim Sclavunos - Drums, Percussion, Backing Vocals

Grinderman sound different from everyone, including themselves. As Memphis Slim put it back in 1941, "While everything is quiet and easy/ Mr. Grinder can have his way.” It's a new day. God help you all.

www.myspace.com/grinderman

Go and have a listen to the song No Pussy Blues at the myspace site. Even if the connection is slow, don't stop until you've reached 1:40 minutes. And 3:34 minutes. Aah. Bliss.

Pictures of love and hate

Cleaning up my cell phone, I found a few recent pictures with dubious artistic merit, but worthwhile commenting on.

So val die helde: Le Petit Paris, a favourite Saturday morning haunt on Greenmarket Square, Cape Town, is no more. A generic-looking coffee shop will open soon. Lekka.





Bosbeheer: Seen on a bakkie in Wellington. I can't figure out if there is a tongue in the cheek here somewhere or whether it's a serious reference.

Blood on the shopfloor: A young boy cut his foot on the side of the checkout installation in Woolworths, Gardens Centre and they let almost four customers wade and tripple and tiptoe through the blood before someone managed to bring a mop. Not even me taking a photo elicited a response.

Art: This is pasted on the back of a street sign in Stellenbosch, around the corner of Mystic Boer and the infamous clinic where the nurse tannies still gave serious speeches to students in the early 90's.








Geel trui vir 'n wenner: at some DJ event at Mystic Boer, Krizz and I spent a lot of time analysing the chances of people around us of getting lucky. Once the guy in front of us managed to remove a yellow jersey that reminded me of some personal youthful fashion indiscretions in 1986, we thought his chances would improve significantly, but it wasn't to be. Krizz, however, pounced on the offending jersey and this picture is of one particular strut. I can of course post the piccie with his face on, but lest there be stalkers out there, won't (for now).

Learning the Lomo

Ok, so we have quite some way to go to learn the idiosyncrasies of the Lomo LC-A, the Interstitial One and I, but a promise is a promise, so here's a first batch of kiekies we took with the Russian pocket monster. My initial reaction is that it works great in low-or-no light situations (as it should), but why do all the daylight photos get underexposed?

Thinking...

Rows are A-D, Columns are 1-2:

A1: Shoegazing, Stanfordsbaai
A2: Bloeisels, Stellenbosch
B1: Smallholding, Wellington (at moonlight with about 1 minute's exposure)
B2: Hills, somewhere in the Overberg
C1: Flowers and clouds, Stanfordsbaai
C2: Lada Niva of the night, Wellington
D1: Cabin fever, Wellington
D2: Stencil wall art, I really can't remember

Still thinking...

Riding the Iron Rooster

Oh, for the love of BLOG! Blogger decided that if I log in from a Chinese computer IT TOO must be Chinese. Note to techno-people: make me choose my own interface language.

So, I've decided to throw in the towel, and it was a nice towel too before it got oil-stained and dust-encrusted. I'm in a city called Sanmenxia, which has lost the whole point of its name, if you want to know.

Tomorrow, I'm bussing back to Xi'an, bike and all. I've come this way by bike, I think about 350km, but that's yet to be confirmed. Since having done that I certainly know pretty well I don't want to go back through that again.

This is just an introduction: I made notes. Suffice it to say that China has simply not endeared itself to me. Again. I try so hard. Here's the short version: The Chinese, as a group, with almost no exceptions, are the most inconsiderate, unfriendly, noisy and uncreative people in the world. I'm willing to discuss this. My Chinese friends even know my position. This trip has just, again, confirmed it. As a white South African such sweeping declarations about a whole other people seems extremely ill-advised. I agree. But for the love of white bread, I can't help it. I just don't meet exceptions. After a while it's terribly hard not to suspect genetic deviation.

As for the road from Xi'an: it's polluted and full of people and smells of shit all the way. Industrial wasteland, except for some pieces just inside Henan which are more like agricultural wastelands.

The cylcing itself went fine: I did between 50km and 80km a day and felt okay the next day. First two days were pouring with rain and the going was slow. Then it became merely foggy and dusty and hilly. On one day I had to walk up a mountain just before entering Henan Province. There was a road of course, but so steep I couldn't peddle, even by standing up on the bike.

At the end of every stretch my face was dark with dust, but it felt good to look back at some shitfaced piece of road and to know I kicked its ass.

This to say for China: never once on the road did I fear for my life. I was never in danger. I think that's more than we can say in South Africa.

That's it for now. I'll fill in the journey when I'm home in Xi'an. For now I would like to go find a bar -- in the interest of cultural exchange, you understand -- but Sanmenxia looks a little devoid of suchlike places. It's still the aftermath of Ten One (October the first, founding of the PRC) and the streets are packed for such a small city. Every -- every -- shop has a full sized red flag haning outside and the TV is full of period pieces about how wonderful Mao was and how bad and evil the Guomingdang was. There's a bit of a carnival atmosphere outside, but not in the friendly way we Western types think. I see the R2 per hour internet bar is pretty packed too, mostly QQ-ers and World of Warcraft. And the night is full of promise. And the smell of shit.

Goes well with a Lada

The folks at the Lomographic Society International announced their long-awaited mystery product today: the new Lomo Compact Automat+, or LC-A+ (see it here). I am very impressed by the effort they went through to manufacture the classic Lomo lens again and find a new manufacturer for the casing. They also introduced a number of added features, specifically multiple and long-exposure functionality. It's still a film camera and it will possibly still blur half your pictures (blame the photographer), but as someone with an overdeveloped collecting gene that's what I like about it.

Some context: the LC-A has always been somewhat of an object of obsession for me (says the guy who enthusiastically promotes the Lada Niva as the car you've always wanted) and since they discontinued manufacturing them in 2005 I wanted one even more. I was thinking of making a splurge buy on something the other day when a bit of extra income rolled in and, when I saw that the people in Vienna are selling refurbished classic LC-A's I threw my credit card at their feet. The decision was made much easier when I saw a new mystery product was going to be released soon - you have to start at the beginning before you can upgrade.

So my LC-A arrived this week and the first thing that happened was that a screw fell out of the camera when I opened it up. I can't figure out where it must go, so I've decided it must be a practical joke as it will be the ultimate Lomo joke... (Maybe I'm still a little worried about that screw). It's been a few day days of experimenting and I am getting the first film developed today to see whether I am worthy of LC-A owner status. The Interstitial One has all the great photo ideas, but my hand is steadier, especially after some red wine, so it's a collaborative exercise.

Anything worthwhile I'll post here. Anything not worthwhile... I'll still post here, as usual.

My vakansie planne

So, die Oktober Goue Week is oppad. Dis een van drie weeklange publieke vakansies in China. Ek gaan my fiets vat, my video kamera en 'n paar bottels water en oos ry langs die Wei rivier so ver as wat ek kan, en dan gaan ek halfpad omdraai. Ek behoort Beijing te maak in 12 dae volgens my berekeninge, maar ek het net sewe so as ek die grens van die provinsie haal sal ek gelukkig wees. Ek't gister 'n oefenlopie gevat, westekant toe. Ek bly in die High Tech Development Zone, so dis wolkekrabbers vir drie kilometer of so, en dan, met minder as 'n fluister van waarskuwing is jy skielik in Stalinist Oos Rusland -- of volgens boustyl dan.
Betonpad, 'n voet diep in stof, 10 ton lorries en myle van identiese vasgekoppelde baksteenhuise, vol vuil kinders, vuil honde en mans wat aan motorfietse werk. Die lug, nooit eintlik bekend vir suiwerheid nie, raak selfs meer stowwerig, amper solied en klein muggie-agtige insekte bombardeer jou. Onmoontlik om oopmond fiets te ry. Of moontlik. Net onsmaaklik.
En "Hello" skree-ende punks met niks beter om te doen nie, skeinbaar. Arme konte: wat 'n lang wag vir die enigste buitelander wat hulle ooit gesien het en waarskynlik gaan sien. [Ek neem aan "skeinbaar" is verkeerd gespel, noudat ek so daarna kyk. Laat ek gou dictionary.com uitcheck. Oh. Right.]
So, ek, kamera (waagstuk), water en fiets. Die plan is om alle ander benodigdhede langs die pad te verkry en as dit nodig is in die wildernis te slaap. Sal foto's neem. Kyk uit. Dit sal iets wees om te vertel en hopelik my skuld betaal vir die volgende ses maande.

A classic tow away

I absolutely love this tow away sign, seen in Loop Street, Cape Town. There were two, both in pristine condition. Have they just survived nature's elements and taggers by chance, have they been lovingly looked after by a nightwatchman, or are they purposely retro?