Thursday, 12 May 2011
Good And Evil
Binary thinking can be both a blessing and a curse.
Labels:
Self-Reference,
T-Shirt Slogans
Cynicism And Cringe
Millions adored Seinfeld or were addicted to the drollery of The Office and other Ricky Gervais creations while, to me, they never rose above examples of demeaning cynicism and the festering humour of cringe.
— Doug Anderson
Labels:
Doug Anderson
Fœtid World
That he is seldom seen doing the rounds of media glitz or participating in the swill of ego-stroking and narcissism that propels the fœtid world of television is perhaps the most significant indicator that his work is serious.
— Doug Anderson
Labels:
Doug Anderson
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
Secret Service
If people don't know what you're doing,
they don't know what you're doing wrong.
— Sir Arnold Robinson
— Sir Arnold Robinson
Labels:
Yes Minister
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
Monday, 9 May 2011
Sunday, 8 May 2011
Saturday, 7 May 2011
Climates Of The Mind
As I see it, or as I want to see it,
the marvels of the visible world are not things in themselves
but revelations to stir the imagination —
to conduct us to amazing climates of the mind,
which climates it is for the artist
to translate into paint or into words.
the marvels of the visible world are not things in themselves
but revelations to stir the imagination —
to conduct us to amazing climates of the mind,
which climates it is for the artist
to translate into paint or into words.
— Mervyn Peake
Labels:
Mervyn Peake
Friday, 6 May 2011
Platonic Essentialism & Zoroastrian Separatism Masquerading As Science
"What makes us human?"
cf
"What makes them cockroaches?"
"What makes them wombats?"
"What makes them bacteria?"
"What makes them magnolias?"
"What makes them truffles?"
cf
"What makes them cockroaches?"
"What makes them wombats?"
"What makes them bacteria?"
"What makes them magnolias?"
"What makes them truffles?"
Labels:
Mythology,
Philosophy,
Science
Thursday, 5 May 2011
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
A Sociologist's Paradise
Far from crazy pavements -
the taste of silver spoons
A clinical arrangement
on a dirty afternoon
Where the fæcal germs of Mr Freud
are rendered obsolete
The legal term is null and void
In the case of Beasley Street
In the cheap seats where murder breeds
Somebody is out of breath
Sleep is a luxury they don't need
- a sneak preview of death
Belladonna is your flower
Manslaughter your meat
Spend a year in a couple of hours
On the edge of Beasley Street
Where the action isn't
That's where it is
State your position
Vacancies exist
In an X-certificate exercise
Ex-servicemen excrete
Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies
In a box on Beasley Street
From the boarding houses and the bedsits
Full of accidents and fleas
Somebody gets it
Where the missing persons freeze
Wearing dead men's overcoats
You can't see their feet
A riff joint shuts - opens up
Right down on Beasley Street
Cars collide, colours clash
disaster movie stuff
For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache
Revenge is not enough
There's a dead canary on a swivel seat
There's a rainbow in the road
Meanwhile on Beasley Street
Silence is the code
Hot beneath the collar
an inspector calls
Where the perishing stink of squalor
impregnates the walls
the rats have all got rickets
they spit through broken teeth
The name of the game is not cricket
Caught out on Beasley Street
The hipster and his hired hat
Drive a borrowed car
Yellow socks and a pink cravat
Nothing La-di-dah
OAP, mother to be
Watch the three-piece suite
When shit-stoppered drains
and crocodile skis
are seen on Beasley Street
The kingdom of the blind
a one-eyed man is king
Beauty problems are redefined
the doorbells do not ring
A lightbulb bursts like a blister
the only form of heat
here a fellow sells his sister
down the river on Beasley Street
The boys are on the wagon
The girls are on the shelf
Their common problem is
that they're not someone else
The dirt blows out
The dust blows in
You can't keep it neat
It's a fully furnished dustbin,
Sixteen Beasley Street
Vince the aging savage
Betrays no kind of life
but the smell of yesterday's cabbage
and the ghost of last year's wife
through a constant haze
of deodorant sprays
he says retreat
Alsatians dog the dirty days
down the middle of Beasley Street
People turn to poison
Quick as lager turns to piss
Sweethearts are physically sick
every time they kiss.
It's a sociologist's paradise
each day repeats
On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy
beastly Beasley Street
Eyes dead as vicious fish
Look around for laughs
If I could have just one wish
I would be a photograph
on a permanent Monday morning
Get lost or fall asleep
When the yellow cats are yawning
Around the back of Beasley Street
the taste of silver spoons
A clinical arrangement
on a dirty afternoon
Where the fæcal germs of Mr Freud
are rendered obsolete
The legal term is null and void
In the case of Beasley Street
In the cheap seats where murder breeds
Somebody is out of breath
Sleep is a luxury they don't need
- a sneak preview of death
Belladonna is your flower
Manslaughter your meat
Spend a year in a couple of hours
On the edge of Beasley Street
Where the action isn't
That's where it is
State your position
Vacancies exist
In an X-certificate exercise
Ex-servicemen excrete
Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies
In a box on Beasley Street
From the boarding houses and the bedsits
Full of accidents and fleas
Somebody gets it
Where the missing persons freeze
Wearing dead men's overcoats
You can't see their feet
A riff joint shuts - opens up
Right down on Beasley Street
Cars collide, colours clash
disaster movie stuff
For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache
Revenge is not enough
There's a dead canary on a swivel seat
There's a rainbow in the road
Meanwhile on Beasley Street
Silence is the code
Hot beneath the collar
an inspector calls
Where the perishing stink of squalor
impregnates the walls
the rats have all got rickets
they spit through broken teeth
The name of the game is not cricket
Caught out on Beasley Street
The hipster and his hired hat
Drive a borrowed car
Yellow socks and a pink cravat
Nothing La-di-dah
OAP, mother to be
Watch the three-piece suite
When shit-stoppered drains
and crocodile skis
are seen on Beasley Street
The kingdom of the blind
a one-eyed man is king
Beauty problems are redefined
the doorbells do not ring
A lightbulb bursts like a blister
the only form of heat
here a fellow sells his sister
down the river on Beasley Street
The boys are on the wagon
The girls are on the shelf
Their common problem is
that they're not someone else
The dirt blows out
The dust blows in
You can't keep it neat
It's a fully furnished dustbin,
Sixteen Beasley Street
Vince the aging savage
Betrays no kind of life
but the smell of yesterday's cabbage
and the ghost of last year's wife
through a constant haze
of deodorant sprays
he says retreat
Alsatians dog the dirty days
down the middle of Beasley Street
People turn to poison
Quick as lager turns to piss
Sweethearts are physically sick
every time they kiss.
It's a sociologist's paradise
each day repeats
On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy
beastly Beasley Street
Eyes dead as vicious fish
Look around for laughs
If I could have just one wish
I would be a photograph
on a permanent Monday morning
Get lost or fall asleep
When the yellow cats are yawning
Around the back of Beasley Street
— John Cooper Clarke 'Beasley Street'
Labels:
John Cooper Clarke,
Lyrics
An Inspector Calls
We often talk about the word closure.
From my experience … there is no absolute closure.
It's more a transcendence from one stage to another.
— Detective Inspector Peter Cotter, Head Of The Homicide Squad
From my experience … there is no absolute closure.
It's more a transcendence from one stage to another.
— Detective Inspector Peter Cotter, Head Of The Homicide Squad
Fellers
If trees gushed blood
When they were felled
By meddling man,
And crimson welled
From every gash
His axe can give,
Would he forbear,
And let them live?
When they were felled
By meddling man,
And crimson welled
From every gash
His axe can give,
Would he forbear,
And let them live?
— Mervyn Peake 'If Trees Gushed Blood'
Labels:
Mervyn Peake,
Poems
Monday, 2 May 2011
Now And Then
There's something in your soul that makes me feel so old
In fact I think I've died about six hundred times
There's less of me now and more of me then
In fact I think I've died about six hundred times
There's less of me now and more of me then
— The Human League 'Almost Mediæval'
Labels:
Lyrics
Unplaced
And I was green, greener than the hill
Where flowers grew and sun shone still
Now I’m darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me a place to be
Where flowers grew and sun shone still
Now I’m darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me a place to be
— Nick Drake 'Place To Be'
Labels:
Lyrics,
Nick Drake
Another Place
I've got to leave I can't stay another day
There's an emptiness inside of me
I can't bear the loneliness out here
There's another place I've got to be
— Floyd Red Crow Westerman 'Quiet Desperation'
There's an emptiness inside of me
I can't bear the loneliness out here
There's another place I've got to be
— Floyd Red Crow Westerman 'Quiet Desperation'
Labels:
Lyrics
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Use
Use-by dates — they come and go.
When it's yours, you're bound to know;
Life and love return anew
As everyone stops using you.
— Michæl Leunig
When it's yours, you're bound to know;
Life and love return anew
As everyone stops using you.
— Michæl Leunig
Saturday, 30 April 2011
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