Machrihanish on a crisp, clear day in winter is quite spectacular. The waves rolling in off the Atlantic and the feeling of space and wildness. And that's just sitting, supping a pint of Guinness, in the Beachcomber Bar (well that's what it used to be called) looking out over the first tee of Machrihanish Golf Club. A first hole which is allegedly in the top 18 holes worldwide of the legendary golfer Jack Nicholas. Not that I play golf, but it's always useful to know a good place for tee.
I was waiting while one of The Boys had an interview at the fairly recently opened, upmarket, Ugadale Hotel. He's been offered the job, which is good as he is pretty desperate to earn some money and get back to Peru at some point this year, where his girlfriend is waiting patiently. I'm sure Peru is lovely, and I'm sure I'd be eager to go back if there was a special person wanting me to, but really, on days like this, I don't know why anyone would want to live anywhere other than here in Kintyre.
Blues skies have a wonderful habit of whisking away the rainy day memories. I think that's pretty hardcore science. We are wired for dealing primarily for today and the future. Even the most miserable, depressive, whiny, individual (don't all point at me now) manages to forget more than they remember about past negative experiences. It's a matter of survival.
Nostaligia...thinking affectionately, and longingly about the past...is associated with old age. I would say it is useful to reflect on times past at any age, but I don't really want to spend too much time doing it right now. There is still a Life to be Sumo-Wrestled to the ground, ransacked of all it's available LifeNess, and then discarded like a sweaty Sumo loin cloth.
Hmm. I seem to have wandered a little bit from sunrises kissing ocean breezes. Better stop before I give anybody nightmares. Have a great weekend. Even those of you who have got to go to work.
The line "Watch the sunrise kiss the ocean breeze" is from my Fee Comes Fourth song Table Mountain - March 4th 2013.
Friday 28 February 2014
Thursday 27 February 2014
"I'm Searching For The Common Thread"
And not because I've taken up sewing.
Though that would be a useful skill. But links and connections make me tick. I think that comes from having felt alienated from the world for a long time. A lot of people, I won't say everybody, feel like there is something a little bit Alien about them. Even if the only time that feeling is experienced is during adolescence.
Anyhow, I've had that feeling with a vengeance for as long as I can remember. When I do get the feeling of connection it is always a joyful experience. Quite rare, but perhaps that's the lot of someone who spends too much time writing songs. I remember the first time I played The Kintyre Songwriters Festival at the ripe old age of "over 40". And people listened to my songs, to me singing my songs, and enthusiastically applauded. And that felt like a connection to me. I felt just that little bit less of an alien.
And I'm pretty sure that works the other way. People listening to a song that sound something like the way they experience the world causes a connection. A little nerve system explosion. At least I hope so.
I love the analogy of cells in the human body. The way in which there are millions of them, and lots of different types of them, and none can really manage without the others. Some cells travel around in a whirlwind connecting with all sorts of other cells. Some stay in the same place and do a job, while connecting with only a few others. But all of them are connected.
That's why I think the Internet is such a positive thing, for all its detractors and detractions. It helps to keep us connected, and to be aware of all the possible connections.
And BTW. The common thread is you.
The line "I'm searching for the common thread" is from my song The Common Thread off the album A Human Being.
Though that would be a useful skill. But links and connections make me tick. I think that comes from having felt alienated from the world for a long time. A lot of people, I won't say everybody, feel like there is something a little bit Alien about them. Even if the only time that feeling is experienced is during adolescence.
Anyhow, I've had that feeling with a vengeance for as long as I can remember. When I do get the feeling of connection it is always a joyful experience. Quite rare, but perhaps that's the lot of someone who spends too much time writing songs. I remember the first time I played The Kintyre Songwriters Festival at the ripe old age of "over 40". And people listened to my songs, to me singing my songs, and enthusiastically applauded. And that felt like a connection to me. I felt just that little bit less of an alien.
And I'm pretty sure that works the other way. People listening to a song that sound something like the way they experience the world causes a connection. A little nerve system explosion. At least I hope so.
I love the analogy of cells in the human body. The way in which there are millions of them, and lots of different types of them, and none can really manage without the others. Some cells travel around in a whirlwind connecting with all sorts of other cells. Some stay in the same place and do a job, while connecting with only a few others. But all of them are connected.
That's why I think the Internet is such a positive thing, for all its detractors and detractions. It helps to keep us connected, and to be aware of all the possible connections.
And BTW. The common thread is you.
The line "I'm searching for the common thread" is from my song The Common Thread off the album A Human Being.
Wednesday 26 February 2014
"I Can't Easily Describe"
It's tough putting words to thoughts, feelings, and experiences. It's a creative act whenever we do it. When we get beyond "How are you? "Good, thanks". It involves dredging, sifting, examining, analysing, framing, choosing. And building. Building a construction that somehow manages to express what is going on inside "me" to what is going on inside "you'.
Am I making it seem too complicated? Perhaps.
Recently I was listening to the banter between some fellas who were putting down a carpet in the house where I was staying. I was in my bedroom. They didn't know I was there. And the chat was relaxed, flowing, full of laughter, friendly, familiar. I felt a wee bit envious of the easy, natural feel of it all. And all the while they were expertly fitting carpets in complicated nooks and crannies. Amazing.
One fella was describing the experience of giving a speech at a wedding for the first time, the previous weekend. His speech had gone alright it seems, but someone else who was speaking had frozen. That poor guy had to stop before he'd said what he wanted to say. The brain and speech have a funny relationship sometimes.
Conversation with friends can and should often stay on a fairly trivial level. The weather, sport, what we've been up to recently, and the funny, interesting or common place stories that result from those experiences. I think that the seemingly trivial stuff is vital to life and our enjoyment of it. Nobody concentrates the whole time they are driving a car. It would be exhausting. Same with speaking. We need to be able to cruise on auto-pilot and give our brains a free ride a lot of the time.
But sometime's it's good to delve deeper. To give ourselves a word workout. If words are your thing, whether written or spoken, then you try and workout regularly and more intensively. But even if they are not your particular strength, it's probably still good to give the Art of Describing a little bit of a walk around the block. Keep the cobwebs at bay. Use it or lose it as they say.
Although I suspect those Carpet Fitters might think I was making a shag pile out of a welcome mat.
The line "I can't easily describe" is from my next Fee Comes Fourth track Cleaning Out The Shed. Available for free next Tuesday.
Am I making it seem too complicated? Perhaps.
Recently I was listening to the banter between some fellas who were putting down a carpet in the house where I was staying. I was in my bedroom. They didn't know I was there. And the chat was relaxed, flowing, full of laughter, friendly, familiar. I felt a wee bit envious of the easy, natural feel of it all. And all the while they were expertly fitting carpets in complicated nooks and crannies. Amazing.
One fella was describing the experience of giving a speech at a wedding for the first time, the previous weekend. His speech had gone alright it seems, but someone else who was speaking had frozen. That poor guy had to stop before he'd said what he wanted to say. The brain and speech have a funny relationship sometimes.
Conversation with friends can and should often stay on a fairly trivial level. The weather, sport, what we've been up to recently, and the funny, interesting or common place stories that result from those experiences. I think that the seemingly trivial stuff is vital to life and our enjoyment of it. Nobody concentrates the whole time they are driving a car. It would be exhausting. Same with speaking. We need to be able to cruise on auto-pilot and give our brains a free ride a lot of the time.
But sometime's it's good to delve deeper. To give ourselves a word workout. If words are your thing, whether written or spoken, then you try and workout regularly and more intensively. But even if they are not your particular strength, it's probably still good to give the Art of Describing a little bit of a walk around the block. Keep the cobwebs at bay. Use it or lose it as they say.
Although I suspect those Carpet Fitters might think I was making a shag pile out of a welcome mat.
The line "I can't easily describe" is from my next Fee Comes Fourth track Cleaning Out The Shed. Available for free next Tuesday.
Tuesday 25 February 2014
"You're The Rock That I Will Cling To"
The Rock in question is Ineke, my exotic, foreign, Dutch wife.
I wrote this line, and the accompanying song, after a row over the phone when she was away somewhere up the road. Because she has been a rock, through all the 28 years of our sometimes rocky marriage. I've got my strengths, but they tend to be mostly up at the creative, intuitive, wordy, imaginative...moody, temperamental, emotional, end of the spectrum. And though I sometimes make semi tongue-in-cheek remarks about our incompatibility the fact is that she is the paradoxical balance to the equation that equals: Us.
It hasn't been easy to live with each other. What with our different dreams, or lack of dreams, totally different perspectives, different ways of thinking, different most things. But the quality of Ineke that I have most appreciated is her Rock-ness. She has been as steady as a beautiful piece of chiselled granite (with me doing a lot of the unintentional chiselling) throughout our married life. When I've had my seasons of doubt, depression, and occasional despair, she has continued holding everything together, without any fuss really. Perhaps this sounds a little bit stereotypical. But it's what she does, and it is the kind of quality that too often goes unappreciated.
I appreciate it Ineke.
The line "You're the rock that I will cling to" was chosen by Eryn Fee, and is from my song A Human Being from the album of the same name.
I wrote this line, and the accompanying song, after a row over the phone when she was away somewhere up the road. Because she has been a rock, through all the 28 years of our sometimes rocky marriage. I've got my strengths, but they tend to be mostly up at the creative, intuitive, wordy, imaginative...moody, temperamental, emotional, end of the spectrum. And though I sometimes make semi tongue-in-cheek remarks about our incompatibility the fact is that she is the paradoxical balance to the equation that equals: Us.
It hasn't been easy to live with each other. What with our different dreams, or lack of dreams, totally different perspectives, different ways of thinking, different most things. But the quality of Ineke that I have most appreciated is her Rock-ness. She has been as steady as a beautiful piece of chiselled granite (with me doing a lot of the unintentional chiselling) throughout our married life. When I've had my seasons of doubt, depression, and occasional despair, she has continued holding everything together, without any fuss really. Perhaps this sounds a little bit stereotypical. But it's what she does, and it is the kind of quality that too often goes unappreciated.
I appreciate it Ineke.
The line "You're the rock that I will cling to" was chosen by Eryn Fee, and is from my song A Human Being from the album of the same name.
Monday 24 February 2014
"I'm Cleaning Out The Shed"
Or to be more precise, Clearing Up A Roof That Got Blown Off. Not off of our house fortunately, but off the outside area I was building, as mentioned in the very recent blog "Here's A Good Place To Look At The View".
To start with I blamed the Yoof. We'd had an 18th birthday party for one of The Boys on Saturday. About 30 people came around and there was a certain amount of alcohol imbibing happening. And to be honest, the whole thing had seemed to go very well in the alcohol imbibing circumstances.
But when I saw the state of the roof, which was pretty much trashed, I put 2 and 2 together and made 18. I thought a group of them had sneaked out at some point and, for some strange reason, had wrecked my year and a bit of planning and hard work. I was upset. As mentioned in the blog, I had ideas for the place. Musical ideas. And it was part of plans for our son's wedding reception. In a brain fuzzled place I took the obvious step and rang the Local Nick.
Two nice, young constables came round. Least that was the impression they gave (of being nice that is) and though I've heard plenty of Police horror stories I'd prefer to give them the benefit of the doubt. PC, soon to be Detective Constable, Bill Smart (no actual names have been used in this account) observed, quite correctly, that it would have been very, very, difficult for a gang of yoof, in the dark, to cause the specific sort of Roof Movement as exemplified by The Roof in question.
So. The Wind it was. And my apologies to the Yoof, for my lack of trust in them. I'm usually telling other folk off for that. And apologies to the roof for not believing in the power of the wind as much as I should have. Not that we didn't take it into account, but hey, ho.
Anyway, it's not been a great day. The only positive outcome being that I've now got a new song called The Roof Blows Off (Cover Me). I don't hang around. Well, I do with the DIY, but not with the songwriting.
The line "I'm Cleaning Out The Shed" is from my next Fee Comes Fourth tune Cleaning Out The Shed to be released on March 4th 2014. It's a dance number.
To start with I blamed the Yoof. We'd had an 18th birthday party for one of The Boys on Saturday. About 30 people came around and there was a certain amount of alcohol imbibing happening. And to be honest, the whole thing had seemed to go very well in the alcohol imbibing circumstances.
But when I saw the state of the roof, which was pretty much trashed, I put 2 and 2 together and made 18. I thought a group of them had sneaked out at some point and, for some strange reason, had wrecked my year and a bit of planning and hard work. I was upset. As mentioned in the blog, I had ideas for the place. Musical ideas. And it was part of plans for our son's wedding reception. In a brain fuzzled place I took the obvious step and rang the Local Nick.
Two nice, young constables came round. Least that was the impression they gave (of being nice that is) and though I've heard plenty of Police horror stories I'd prefer to give them the benefit of the doubt. PC, soon to be Detective Constable, Bill Smart (no actual names have been used in this account) observed, quite correctly, that it would have been very, very, difficult for a gang of yoof, in the dark, to cause the specific sort of Roof Movement as exemplified by The Roof in question.
So. The Wind it was. And my apologies to the Yoof, for my lack of trust in them. I'm usually telling other folk off for that. And apologies to the roof for not believing in the power of the wind as much as I should have. Not that we didn't take it into account, but hey, ho.
Anyway, it's not been a great day. The only positive outcome being that I've now got a new song called The Roof Blows Off (Cover Me). I don't hang around. Well, I do with the DIY, but not with the songwriting.
The line "I'm Cleaning Out The Shed" is from my next Fee Comes Fourth tune Cleaning Out The Shed to be released on March 4th 2014. It's a dance number.
Sunday 23 February 2014
"I'm Not Going To Heaven"
Well, probably not. Depends on so many things. Which particular subsection of which particular Faith have got the entry conditions right. Or if it exists. Some people are CERTAIN it does. I have quite a few doubts, but that's me. I suspect I'm a lost cause.
Some of the more sensible religious guru's will say that it is better to simply get on with living the best life you can live, than trying to second guess God (if he or/and she exists and is into life after death). Which is quite the best way to approach these matters I think. Deal with the stuff that we can actually DO something about. There in lies the way to paradise.
I don't think I would describe myself as a Belinda Carlisle-ist though. Heaven isn't a place on earth either. For a simple reason, neatly expressed by an old Christian truism aimed at those who travelled around trying to find THE best church congregation to be a member of. To them it was said by an anonymous saint (we'll call her Gertie): "If you find the perfect church don't join...you wouldn't want to spoil things would you?"
Gertie was right Belinda. Finding a perfect place on earth, in church or mosque, football stadium or music gig (not EVEN the Kintyre Songwriters Festival, though that's pretty close) is impossible because if you or I find it, Belinda, it's gonna get tainted immediately.
So, does that make me a killjoy who wants to, um, kill the joyful hope of those who think that there is something better, something perfect round the next corner, or the next life? No, it doesn't. I'm quite happy to live in a world where people have faith in things that cannot be seen. I'm quite happy to live with and love people of faith.
It's just that for me, the journey is the thing. This moment. And if I do or don't manage to extract and consume every last particle of Life out of it (which, more often than not, I don't) then it is my loss (and sometimes my wonderful gain). Nobody else's. For behold, I am the creator of Heaven, and I am it's Destroyer.
But there is always the next step to take. One more step. Just one more.
Hmm. Seems like I do have faith after all.
The line "I'm not going to heaven" is from my Fee Comes Fourth song Devotion - April 4th 2013
Some of the more sensible religious guru's will say that it is better to simply get on with living the best life you can live, than trying to second guess God (if he or/and she exists and is into life after death). Which is quite the best way to approach these matters I think. Deal with the stuff that we can actually DO something about. There in lies the way to paradise.
I don't think I would describe myself as a Belinda Carlisle-ist though. Heaven isn't a place on earth either. For a simple reason, neatly expressed by an old Christian truism aimed at those who travelled around trying to find THE best church congregation to be a member of. To them it was said by an anonymous saint (we'll call her Gertie): "If you find the perfect church don't join...you wouldn't want to spoil things would you?"
Gertie was right Belinda. Finding a perfect place on earth, in church or mosque, football stadium or music gig (not EVEN the Kintyre Songwriters Festival, though that's pretty close) is impossible because if you or I find it, Belinda, it's gonna get tainted immediately.
So, does that make me a killjoy who wants to, um, kill the joyful hope of those who think that there is something better, something perfect round the next corner, or the next life? No, it doesn't. I'm quite happy to live in a world where people have faith in things that cannot be seen. I'm quite happy to live with and love people of faith.
It's just that for me, the journey is the thing. This moment. And if I do or don't manage to extract and consume every last particle of Life out of it (which, more often than not, I don't) then it is my loss (and sometimes my wonderful gain). Nobody else's. For behold, I am the creator of Heaven, and I am it's Destroyer.
But there is always the next step to take. One more step. Just one more.
Hmm. Seems like I do have faith after all.
The line "I'm not going to heaven" is from my Fee Comes Fourth song Devotion - April 4th 2013
Saturday 22 February 2014
"I'm Not Going To Hell"
The idea of Hell is terrible. Despicable actually. Nothing to do with justice at all. It comes from the same people who brought you: Compulsory Schooling, Tesco, Walmart, Papal Infallibility, Original Sin, BBC Infallibility, The News, Slavery, Empire, The X-Factor, and The Bedroom Tax.
OK. Some of these people may be your employers. Which doesn't make you children of hell. YOU can bring a bit of life, and freedom and hope into The Fire. We've all been there. And on our better days we know that change is possible.
But, it is people who brought you the concept of Hell. Not God. And that is a hopeful thing. Because if it was God you couldn't do a thing about it. You would be subject to those rules. You'd either be in or out, regardless of the fact that you had absolutely NO choice in being here, on planet earth, in the first place.
But because Hell is a human concept, that means we have the ability to change the rules.
It would be a sin not to.
The line "I'm not going to hell" is from my song Devotion - April 4th 2014
OK. Some of these people may be your employers. Which doesn't make you children of hell. YOU can bring a bit of life, and freedom and hope into The Fire. We've all been there. And on our better days we know that change is possible.
But, it is people who brought you the concept of Hell. Not God. And that is a hopeful thing. Because if it was God you couldn't do a thing about it. You would be subject to those rules. You'd either be in or out, regardless of the fact that you had absolutely NO choice in being here, on planet earth, in the first place.
But because Hell is a human concept, that means we have the ability to change the rules.
It would be a sin not to.
The line "I'm not going to hell" is from my song Devotion - April 4th 2014
Friday 21 February 2014
"Here's A Good Place To Look At The View"
For someone who is not a great fan of DIY, and someone who is not very good at it, I think I have done more of it than anyone I know. Despite the protests. My protests. Despite the intentions to avoid.
I don't know how it happens, but it happens. And sometimes I don't even mind. Like today. I've been outside putting a roof on a large construction that used to be home to two Snowy Owls. (The place where we stay is a part of what used to be the Scottish Owl Centre). We've already (me and Brian...a legend) put down a heap of decking. With a bit of help from The Boys at different times. And now we're putting a roof over it.
So I'm outside, on one of the better days we've had so far this year, knocking in roofing nails, which is something I can cope with. Simple and repetitive. And I can look out over Campbeltown Loch and Davaar Island and the famous Ben Gullion. And the only fly in the appointment is the slightly too loud industrial hum of Campbeltown Creamery. But that's being picky. Their cheese is fantastic.
The roof is not far off completion now. And we'll have an outside space who's first use (hopefully) will be for an outside reception at the wedding of my oldest son Daniel, to Susanna. And it is her Dad who started the Owl Centre, and she grew up there. Which is a nice little additional touch to the whole thing.
In the future I'm hoping to be staging little concerts there as well, for me, other local songwriters, and anyone else we can persuade. It'll be great. Outdoors but under cover. A good place to look at the view. To relax. And let the music drown out ALL the flies in EVERYBODY'S ointment.
PS. I smiled at a stranger today. But not before a stranger had smiled at me. I hope you succeeded in beating those dang strangers to it!
The line "Here's a good place to look at the view" is from my song You Don't Have To Be Strong on the album A Human Being.
I don't know how it happens, but it happens. And sometimes I don't even mind. Like today. I've been outside putting a roof on a large construction that used to be home to two Snowy Owls. (The place where we stay is a part of what used to be the Scottish Owl Centre). We've already (me and Brian...a legend) put down a heap of decking. With a bit of help from The Boys at different times. And now we're putting a roof over it.
So I'm outside, on one of the better days we've had so far this year, knocking in roofing nails, which is something I can cope with. Simple and repetitive. And I can look out over Campbeltown Loch and Davaar Island and the famous Ben Gullion. And the only fly in the appointment is the slightly too loud industrial hum of Campbeltown Creamery. But that's being picky. Their cheese is fantastic.
The roof is not far off completion now. And we'll have an outside space who's first use (hopefully) will be for an outside reception at the wedding of my oldest son Daniel, to Susanna. And it is her Dad who started the Owl Centre, and she grew up there. Which is a nice little additional touch to the whole thing.
In the future I'm hoping to be staging little concerts there as well, for me, other local songwriters, and anyone else we can persuade. It'll be great. Outdoors but under cover. A good place to look at the view. To relax. And let the music drown out ALL the flies in EVERYBODY'S ointment.
PS. I smiled at a stranger today. But not before a stranger had smiled at me. I hope you succeeded in beating those dang strangers to it!
The line "Here's a good place to look at the view" is from my song You Don't Have To Be Strong on the album A Human Being.
Thursday 20 February 2014
"Return The Smile And Wait A While"
I don't want this to make you sad, but there was a time when I used to smile more. Ironically though, when I look back at the photo's, the smiley me seemed to happen a lot more during some of the more difficult times in my life.
Here's a challenge. For me anyway. And you too if you're in the mood.
Smile at a stranger tomorrow. Doesn't matter which particular stranger. Although a stranger who looks in need of the smile would be the best choice. And it doesn't matter if you have a reason to smile, but best of all smile without a reason. Why? Well, among other things, smiling is a good facial workout, I heard. And a smile gets passed on, making the world a happier place. Someone said that too. In addition, if you smile at a stranger every day you will increase your lifespan by 7 years.
I made that up.
Anyway, I hear you saying that you're not in the mood. Me neither. But I need to get myself in that mood. Same way that I need to get myself to the top of Ben Gullion, when I haven't managed it because of the miserable rain for a couple of weeks. It's getting out of the ruts. Getting into the habit of getting out of the ruts.
I saw 12 Years A Slave recently. To be honest, we've got a lot of reasons to smile. Freedom and no whippings being just two of them for most of us.
"Return the smile and wait a while" is from my song Bathing In The Moon. Which has been released on a local co-operative album many years old, called Mayhem On Mainstreet. But if you can find it, well done.
Here's a challenge. For me anyway. And you too if you're in the mood.
Smile at a stranger tomorrow. Doesn't matter which particular stranger. Although a stranger who looks in need of the smile would be the best choice. And it doesn't matter if you have a reason to smile, but best of all smile without a reason. Why? Well, among other things, smiling is a good facial workout, I heard. And a smile gets passed on, making the world a happier place. Someone said that too. In addition, if you smile at a stranger every day you will increase your lifespan by 7 years.
I made that up.
Anyway, I hear you saying that you're not in the mood. Me neither. But I need to get myself in that mood. Same way that I need to get myself to the top of Ben Gullion, when I haven't managed it because of the miserable rain for a couple of weeks. It's getting out of the ruts. Getting into the habit of getting out of the ruts.
I saw 12 Years A Slave recently. To be honest, we've got a lot of reasons to smile. Freedom and no whippings being just two of them for most of us.
"Return the smile and wait a while" is from my song Bathing In The Moon. Which has been released on a local co-operative album many years old, called Mayhem On Mainstreet. But if you can find it, well done.
Wednesday 19 February 2014
"In The Beginning You're Moving Slow"
You might be. But The Boys and me were speed freaks at the Go Kart track at Cambuslang. Which I suspect, after last year and this, has become a yearly fixture in the Fee calendar. Great fun. The feel of speed and Formula 1 competitiveness...and the chance to show the young ones that the Old 'Un has still got it. Oh yeah! I'm sure I didn't come fourth anyway...
In other news The Lego Movie, as well as being the best advert Lego will ever get, is also a fantastic bit of cinema. Funny, but also quite inspiring. If you get the chance give it a shot. You don't need a child to go with you. Adults are allowed to attend unaccompanied.
And in yet another advert for which I am being paid NOTHING: Premier Inn beds are as comfortable as Lenny Henry makes them look. As long as you get the Double Bed anyway. But remember, to make sure that the one child who always, always forgets something, doesn't forget something. Doh!
And finally, I have been measured up for a kilt. It's going to happen. I'm under orders to wear one for the oldest boy's wedding in a couple of months. And I don't even know if it's legal for a Sassanach to wear a kilt. Perhaps I shouldn't be revealing this in a public place. Hopefully there won't be too much "revealing" going on at the wedding either...better stay off the whisky on the day, I think.
The line "In the beginning you're moving slow" is from the song Pocket Dynamite co-written with Gary Carey.
In other news The Lego Movie, as well as being the best advert Lego will ever get, is also a fantastic bit of cinema. Funny, but also quite inspiring. If you get the chance give it a shot. You don't need a child to go with you. Adults are allowed to attend unaccompanied.
And in yet another advert for which I am being paid NOTHING: Premier Inn beds are as comfortable as Lenny Henry makes them look. As long as you get the Double Bed anyway. But remember, to make sure that the one child who always, always forgets something, doesn't forget something. Doh!
And finally, I have been measured up for a kilt. It's going to happen. I'm under orders to wear one for the oldest boy's wedding in a couple of months. And I don't even know if it's legal for a Sassanach to wear a kilt. Perhaps I shouldn't be revealing this in a public place. Hopefully there won't be too much "revealing" going on at the wedding either...better stay off the whisky on the day, I think.
The line "In the beginning you're moving slow" is from the song Pocket Dynamite co-written with Gary Carey.
Monday 17 February 2014
"But You Ain't Heard Everything Yet"
Can I just say that it's hard to right a blog when people are listening to TV. I've tried it on an iPad, but you know those awkward touch keyboards. So the computer it is, in loud earshot of the telly. With the Simpsons on in the background. Which I like. And now I'm getting distracted by Willie's really awful Scottish accent. I think a Scottish accent must be one of the hardest to pull off. I often have to tell English visitors to avoid doing bad, or indeed any, Scottish accents when they come to visit. 'Least not while I'm around. It's embarrassing.
The Simpson's is the kind of art that I aspire to. The stuff that will stay around on repeat on Channel 4 until the Universe is cold. And what's great about the internet is that, in theory, anyone can do art that's around for ever. Just doodle some graffiti on the endless web wall and let the Future be your judge. Because Web Servers are Eternal aren't they? I'm sure someone told me that.
So now anything you scribble on Facebook, for instance, could be discovered in 330 years time. And someone will read it and say: "Wow, that fella really should have got more credit during his/her lifetime, and not had to wait till they were dead and past caring. LOL".
Anyway, the brains even more fuzzled now coz we've switched to Pop Channel. It's kiddie cartoons. Some are quite good. All of them are VERY loud.
The School boys are off school. Taking them up to Glasgow tomorrow, meeting with older Student boy, and then going for our yearly Go Karting. And then out for a night on the town. Oh, yes! The Counting House, Cineworld, Premier Inn...the works!
Must stop! Too much high pitched yelping in my poor old head. Glad I'm a little bit deaf.
The line "But you ain't heard everything yet" is from my song Frequent Disapproval - August 4th 2013
The Simpson's is the kind of art that I aspire to. The stuff that will stay around on repeat on Channel 4 until the Universe is cold. And what's great about the internet is that, in theory, anyone can do art that's around for ever. Just doodle some graffiti on the endless web wall and let the Future be your judge. Because Web Servers are Eternal aren't they? I'm sure someone told me that.
So now anything you scribble on Facebook, for instance, could be discovered in 330 years time. And someone will read it and say: "Wow, that fella really should have got more credit during his/her lifetime, and not had to wait till they were dead and past caring. LOL".
Anyway, the brains even more fuzzled now coz we've switched to Pop Channel. It's kiddie cartoons. Some are quite good. All of them are VERY loud.
The School boys are off school. Taking them up to Glasgow tomorrow, meeting with older Student boy, and then going for our yearly Go Karting. And then out for a night on the town. Oh, yes! The Counting House, Cineworld, Premier Inn...the works!
Must stop! Too much high pitched yelping in my poor old head. Glad I'm a little bit deaf.
The line "But you ain't heard everything yet" is from my song Frequent Disapproval - August 4th 2013
Saturday 15 February 2014
"Green Is The Colour Of Our Dreams"
That's "Colour" American readers. Colour.
John Muir, you may know, was a fella from Scotland who went to the US of A and dreamed, planned, and walked through the open spaces of America. He is the founder of the vast National Parks. Big tracts of open wild space that are protected from development. Where wilderness is encouraged and maintained. And that wasn't an easy battle to win in the States, or anywhere really. But John Muir believed that unreconstructed wild spaces are vital for our mental health and for our planet. For our future. I think he was right. Soon there will be a path across Scotland opening, The John Muir Way, in honour (that's honour) of his achievements.
Without visionaries like John Muir, our world would be a messier, more confusing, uglier, unhealthier place. Green is the nemesis of concrete. Our cities are amazing constructions, but without green they become soulless, lifeless, heartless places. The best ones manage to let Green be an inherent part of their structures rather than an afterthought.
I identify with dreamers like Muir. I have dreams of my own. I like to think we all do, even if sadly many of them get buried over time. Dreams about leaving the world in a better way than we found it. One day I'll tell you about my dreams.
Not today though. Today I just want to celebrate the colour Green. It keeps us sane. It's fresh as a pine forest. A natural pine forest, not those greedy man-made, life sapping Sitka deserts that take up too much of the Kintyre landscape where I live. It promises rest, and relaxation and protection. It tells us that water is around. It eases the mind. It sustains us.
If we don't respect Green though we end up suffering the consequences. Like when we destroy the trees in the hills, which used to drink the water and bring life. Instead, the hills become bare and the water heads to the valleys causing destructive, misery ridden floods.
Or when we let our need for food cause us to turn the land into a desert. Like the Fertile Crescent of the Middle East. Which used to be a massive, life filled garden, until we invented the sort of agriculture that helped the human species expand, but perhaps also sowed the seeds of our destruction.
Expanding desert. We create it.
But when we stop looking for short term gain, we promote, and protect, and work with Green. Green is the colour of all our best dreams.
"Green is the colour of our dreams" is from my song Touching Green off the album "A Human Being"
John Muir, you may know, was a fella from Scotland who went to the US of A and dreamed, planned, and walked through the open spaces of America. He is the founder of the vast National Parks. Big tracts of open wild space that are protected from development. Where wilderness is encouraged and maintained. And that wasn't an easy battle to win in the States, or anywhere really. But John Muir believed that unreconstructed wild spaces are vital for our mental health and for our planet. For our future. I think he was right. Soon there will be a path across Scotland opening, The John Muir Way, in honour (that's honour) of his achievements.
Without visionaries like John Muir, our world would be a messier, more confusing, uglier, unhealthier place. Green is the nemesis of concrete. Our cities are amazing constructions, but without green they become soulless, lifeless, heartless places. The best ones manage to let Green be an inherent part of their structures rather than an afterthought.
I identify with dreamers like Muir. I have dreams of my own. I like to think we all do, even if sadly many of them get buried over time. Dreams about leaving the world in a better way than we found it. One day I'll tell you about my dreams.
Not today though. Today I just want to celebrate the colour Green. It keeps us sane. It's fresh as a pine forest. A natural pine forest, not those greedy man-made, life sapping Sitka deserts that take up too much of the Kintyre landscape where I live. It promises rest, and relaxation and protection. It tells us that water is around. It eases the mind. It sustains us.
If we don't respect Green though we end up suffering the consequences. Like when we destroy the trees in the hills, which used to drink the water and bring life. Instead, the hills become bare and the water heads to the valleys causing destructive, misery ridden floods.
Or when we let our need for food cause us to turn the land into a desert. Like the Fertile Crescent of the Middle East. Which used to be a massive, life filled garden, until we invented the sort of agriculture that helped the human species expand, but perhaps also sowed the seeds of our destruction.
Expanding desert. We create it.
But when we stop looking for short term gain, we promote, and protect, and work with Green. Green is the colour of all our best dreams.
"Green is the colour of our dreams" is from my song Touching Green off the album "A Human Being"
Friday 14 February 2014
"When I Surrender, The Dawn Arrives"
Despair is depression gone too far.
With depression the mind can wander to places. Places to unload blame. It can think. Not good thoughts, but thoughts. Thoughts can be guided. It can wander to a place of tears and a certain kind of release. Depression can be like a season that comes for a while and then goes. It isn't a pleasant experience but if held lightly, and with a guarded familiarity, it can be observed, like a bad storm from under a little bit of cover.
Despair isn't like that. Despair is being buried alive in a coffin. Every thought is a cul-de-sac without any room for a road. A dead end that snaps towards any tiny sense of a way out. If tears come they are dry. Searching for something, anything, to cry for. Despair is to a human being what desolation is to a landscape. And coming back from it, if you do, feels like a kind of miracle. Like playing Russian Roulette when all but one of the bullets is live. It's the success of not killing yourself. I wouldn't wish Despair on my worst enemy. I've been there once, and on the edge on several occasions.
This is useful stuff to know if you suffer from depression. Seriously. It makes it so important to not embrace the sorrow and sadness as though they are a part of yourself. They are not. They are sometimes the sirens of despair trying to lure you to a very dangerous place.
The good news is that we do have control of our thoughts. We can change the way we think. When we are in our right minds, we can learn to watch for the little signs that send us into depression. We can learn to watch the way our minds think and we can learn to mentally argue with the words of negativity and the resigned, listless attitude. We can talk to someone, not for pity, or to have our sorrow fed and nurtured. But to to receive support in the fight. We can simply distract ourselves with whatever it is that is capable of distracting us.
But sometimes, especially on the road to building new ways of thinking, we will still slip into depression. And sometimes that depression will simply be a gentle sadness reminding us that the world isn't always, or even often, right. And it can encourage us to make change for the better, not just in ourselves, but for the people and communities we are a part of. Which is good.
But don't let it hang around. Find ways of keeping yourself away from the edge. Please.
The line "When I surrender the dawn arrives" is from my song Sometimes I Cry - November 4th, 2013.
With depression the mind can wander to places. Places to unload blame. It can think. Not good thoughts, but thoughts. Thoughts can be guided. It can wander to a place of tears and a certain kind of release. Depression can be like a season that comes for a while and then goes. It isn't a pleasant experience but if held lightly, and with a guarded familiarity, it can be observed, like a bad storm from under a little bit of cover.
Despair isn't like that. Despair is being buried alive in a coffin. Every thought is a cul-de-sac without any room for a road. A dead end that snaps towards any tiny sense of a way out. If tears come they are dry. Searching for something, anything, to cry for. Despair is to a human being what desolation is to a landscape. And coming back from it, if you do, feels like a kind of miracle. Like playing Russian Roulette when all but one of the bullets is live. It's the success of not killing yourself. I wouldn't wish Despair on my worst enemy. I've been there once, and on the edge on several occasions.
This is useful stuff to know if you suffer from depression. Seriously. It makes it so important to not embrace the sorrow and sadness as though they are a part of yourself. They are not. They are sometimes the sirens of despair trying to lure you to a very dangerous place.
The good news is that we do have control of our thoughts. We can change the way we think. When we are in our right minds, we can learn to watch for the little signs that send us into depression. We can learn to watch the way our minds think and we can learn to mentally argue with the words of negativity and the resigned, listless attitude. We can talk to someone, not for pity, or to have our sorrow fed and nurtured. But to to receive support in the fight. We can simply distract ourselves with whatever it is that is capable of distracting us.
But sometimes, especially on the road to building new ways of thinking, we will still slip into depression. And sometimes that depression will simply be a gentle sadness reminding us that the world isn't always, or even often, right. And it can encourage us to make change for the better, not just in ourselves, but for the people and communities we are a part of. Which is good.
But don't let it hang around. Find ways of keeping yourself away from the edge. Please.
The line "When I surrender the dawn arrives" is from my song Sometimes I Cry - November 4th, 2013.
Wednesday 12 February 2014
"It's Time To Make Your Great Escape" Part 2
Well, sequels are usually rubbish. But let's try anyway.
If you were reading yesterday I was talking about the fact that I've been, I mean become, committed. Oh yes. Strait Jackets and everything.
Committing to something involves passing the point of no return. If it turns out rubbish then...well, then it's too late. You've said it. You've done it. Fail!
Except I don't see it like that..
I write things, or say things that contain opinions about life, the universe and everything. And quite often I find that I change my mind. I'm sure I'm the only person in the whole of the universe that has experienced that phenomenon! But, I change my mind a lot. I'm on a tentative search for Truth. And playing with words...in songs, in conversations, in blogs...is possible the biggest part of my own Truth Voyage kitbag. So I find that I say things which seem like a good stab at something that is true, and then, on reflection, decide that, in fact it was not so.
If you're still with me you may know that an important part of the Scientific Method (as I understand it, and I am no Scientist) is to RULE STUFF OUT. Ruling stuff out is an important part of getting to find out what stuff is in.
As I said, I'm not a Scientist. But I try to be a scientist. We can all be scientists. Little children are the best at it. Asking questions, questions that sound daft to us, and then readjusting their world view based on the answers they come up with. (I would like to have introduced a little child/parent conversational anecdote at this point. I've heard a million examples. But I never write anything useful down like a good reporter would and I can only remember "happenings" for a maximum of 24 hours. And that's pushing it.)
So I write songs, and I talk, and bloggity blog, to ask questions of life. Lost in my own Little Scientist Groundhog Day. To discover, to thrive, or simply to survive. And sometimes I wish I could use some of the tactics that other people use. Because the grass is always greener on the other fella's patch. Or simply not bother at all and live in joyful anticipation of the next episode of Holly Oaks. Why not? I'm not here to judge other peoples life journeys.
But there is, for me, no escape from this path. And it is a path. We've all got a path.
And now I'm off to meditate on a piece of string. It's just an experiment.
The line "It's time to make your great escape" is still from my nameless, unreleased song.
If you were reading yesterday I was talking about the fact that I've been, I mean become, committed. Oh yes. Strait Jackets and everything.
Committing to something involves passing the point of no return. If it turns out rubbish then...well, then it's too late. You've said it. You've done it. Fail!
Except I don't see it like that..
I write things, or say things that contain opinions about life, the universe and everything. And quite often I find that I change my mind. I'm sure I'm the only person in the whole of the universe that has experienced that phenomenon! But, I change my mind a lot. I'm on a tentative search for Truth. And playing with words...in songs, in conversations, in blogs...is possible the biggest part of my own Truth Voyage kitbag. So I find that I say things which seem like a good stab at something that is true, and then, on reflection, decide that, in fact it was not so.
If you're still with me you may know that an important part of the Scientific Method (as I understand it, and I am no Scientist) is to RULE STUFF OUT. Ruling stuff out is an important part of getting to find out what stuff is in.
As I said, I'm not a Scientist. But I try to be a scientist. We can all be scientists. Little children are the best at it. Asking questions, questions that sound daft to us, and then readjusting their world view based on the answers they come up with. (I would like to have introduced a little child/parent conversational anecdote at this point. I've heard a million examples. But I never write anything useful down like a good reporter would and I can only remember "happenings" for a maximum of 24 hours. And that's pushing it.)
So I write songs, and I talk, and bloggity blog, to ask questions of life. Lost in my own Little Scientist Groundhog Day. To discover, to thrive, or simply to survive. And sometimes I wish I could use some of the tactics that other people use. Because the grass is always greener on the other fella's patch. Or simply not bother at all and live in joyful anticipation of the next episode of Holly Oaks. Why not? I'm not here to judge other peoples life journeys.
But there is, for me, no escape from this path. And it is a path. We've all got a path.
And now I'm off to meditate on a piece of string. It's just an experiment.
The line "It's time to make your great escape" is still from my nameless, unreleased song.
Tuesday 11 February 2014
"It's Time To Make Your Great Escape"
But there is no escaping from a commitment that you've signed. In blood. With yourself.
Basically I've tied myself up for a lifetime. No way out. First it was the songs on the fourth of every month. As you know I'm going to be doing that forever. Could I stop? Well, I could, but I can't. Not anymore. It's what I do. I know, you never know what the future holds, but come hell or high water (always wanted to use that phrase) I'm going to be bustin' a gut (and that one) to get a song out. Actually, most of the time it's fun, because it's what I love doing.
And the same with the wordy writey bloggy thing. This. The plan is to do it daily. But I've just been away and missed a couple. I've got to find a way to organise that properly, and I think I'll be a little bit merciful on myself with the "every single day" part. But still. I want to keep doing it.
All of this commitment to output raises a serious issue though. Quality control.
I find with the blog that there have been times when I've just had to Put It Out There without the proper time to edit. Same with the songs. I can do this stuff, but is the quality of the stuff going to remain at a standard that I am happy with? And that my ENORMOUS reader/listenership is happy with. I really don't want to be talking to myself. I will do it, but I don't want to.
Time will tell I suppose. I'm of the opinion that doing a task over and over is one of the best ways of getting better at it. Certainly on the craft and technique side of the equation. Inspiration is a whole other beast. But waiting for inspiration to strike is, in my experience, a pretty certain route to stuck-in-the-mud immobility.
So, I'm going to go with this principle: get the boat moving and worry about the steering later.
And the boat is moving. No escape. Oh shit.
"It's time to make your great escape" is from an unreleased song of mine that hasn't got an obvious name even though it's been around for a number of years. Think I'll just have to record it, and see whether the right title emerges.
Fee Comes Fourth
Basically I've tied myself up for a lifetime. No way out. First it was the songs on the fourth of every month. As you know I'm going to be doing that forever. Could I stop? Well, I could, but I can't. Not anymore. It's what I do. I know, you never know what the future holds, but come hell or high water (always wanted to use that phrase) I'm going to be bustin' a gut (and that one) to get a song out. Actually, most of the time it's fun, because it's what I love doing.
And the same with the wordy writey bloggy thing. This. The plan is to do it daily. But I've just been away and missed a couple. I've got to find a way to organise that properly, and I think I'll be a little bit merciful on myself with the "every single day" part. But still. I want to keep doing it.
All of this commitment to output raises a serious issue though. Quality control.
I find with the blog that there have been times when I've just had to Put It Out There without the proper time to edit. Same with the songs. I can do this stuff, but is the quality of the stuff going to remain at a standard that I am happy with? And that my ENORMOUS reader/listenership is happy with. I really don't want to be talking to myself. I will do it, but I don't want to.
Time will tell I suppose. I'm of the opinion that doing a task over and over is one of the best ways of getting better at it. Certainly on the craft and technique side of the equation. Inspiration is a whole other beast. But waiting for inspiration to strike is, in my experience, a pretty certain route to stuck-in-the-mud immobility.
So, I'm going to go with this principle: get the boat moving and worry about the steering later.
And the boat is moving. No escape. Oh shit.
"It's time to make your great escape" is from an unreleased song of mine that hasn't got an obvious name even though it's been around for a number of years. Think I'll just have to record it, and see whether the right title emerges.
Fee Comes Fourth
Sunday 9 February 2014
"She Smiles And He Knows"
It's nice being able to communicate in unspoken gestures. I often can't help talking even if I don't want to. A work colleague once told me that she knew when I was about to disagree with something because my right eyebrow would go up. So my face speaks. In fact it takes a lot of effort for me to do deadpan..
Words, as limited as they are, are our best way of being certain that we have accurately passed on a message. I doubt people would feel so relaxed on an aeroplane if they knew that the Air Traffic Controller was passing on important flight information using body language. The body language is good for the big picture. A general idea about how people are feeling. Not for saying "Move to 25000 metres because you are currently in the flight path of a KLM 747 on route to Schipol".
I flew down to Bristol on Saturday to surprise a friend who was performing at a gig to officially release his album. I'm having a great time catching up with song writing friends. But before the flight took off I was already quite confident I was going to have a safe trip and a good time because the air hostesses were smiling when we boarded the plane.
Other information I have picked up during this trip without the use of words. Easyjet is better than Ryanair. Ukeleles are stronger than they look. And rain is wet everywhere.
The line "She smiles and he knows" comes from a co-written song called Dancing In Rio which my co-writers (Tina Pluchino and Rob Harris) are planning to get released soon, in time for the World Cup in Brazil. Or if we miss that deadline, the 2016 Olympics in Brazil.
Words, as limited as they are, are our best way of being certain that we have accurately passed on a message. I doubt people would feel so relaxed on an aeroplane if they knew that the Air Traffic Controller was passing on important flight information using body language. The body language is good for the big picture. A general idea about how people are feeling. Not for saying "Move to 25000 metres because you are currently in the flight path of a KLM 747 on route to Schipol".
I flew down to Bristol on Saturday to surprise a friend who was performing at a gig to officially release his album. I'm having a great time catching up with song writing friends. But before the flight took off I was already quite confident I was going to have a safe trip and a good time because the air hostesses were smiling when we boarded the plane.
Other information I have picked up during this trip without the use of words. Easyjet is better than Ryanair. Ukeleles are stronger than they look. And rain is wet everywhere.
The line "She smiles and he knows" comes from a co-written song called Dancing In Rio which my co-writers (Tina Pluchino and Rob Harris) are planning to get released soon, in time for the World Cup in Brazil. Or if we miss that deadline, the 2016 Olympics in Brazil.
Friday 7 February 2014
"I Want To Sail Away On The Seven Seas"
Today I'm up the road...
I feel a sense of freedom when I head past Westport beach and see Gigha off to the left as I travel the A83 away from home. I love surprises. There is nothing more exiting than leaving Campbeltown and visiting somewhere that I haven't been before. The more unknown that can be packed into a journey the better. And Limited Knowledge is the best invention ever. Along with BIG maps that give tiny clues to all the Different Stuff that could be out there. Mussels and beer under a bridge over the Bhospurus in Istanbul. Being treated like a King on news years day in Isfahan, Iran. And closer to home, but still new, collapsing cliffs near Cleethorpes. John O'Groats and isolation. The size of the sky on North Uist.
A breath of fresh air.
Coming home is the most comforting and re-energising of experiences. Driving or being driven by The Bus Driver back down the A83 after Tarbert on the way home to Campbeltown is one of my favourite things. The changing sky over the Atlantic out past Northern Island. Home to times with the family. Ineke. The boys bantering among themselves and joining forces to mock the Old Man. The Aqualibrium...The library beneath the swimming pool! Friday night take-aways from The Taj Mahal, our local Bangladeshi. Bengullion, looking down upon us. Walking up or down Longrow and Mainstreet seeing faces that have become part of my life.
Bathing in the familiar.
I'm back on Monday, or Tuesday. Hopefully still be blogging while I'm away though.
The line "I want to sail away on the seven seas" is from my unreleased song Fog.
Fee Comes Fourth
I feel a sense of freedom when I head past Westport beach and see Gigha off to the left as I travel the A83 away from home. I love surprises. There is nothing more exiting than leaving Campbeltown and visiting somewhere that I haven't been before. The more unknown that can be packed into a journey the better. And Limited Knowledge is the best invention ever. Along with BIG maps that give tiny clues to all the Different Stuff that could be out there. Mussels and beer under a bridge over the Bhospurus in Istanbul. Being treated like a King on news years day in Isfahan, Iran. And closer to home, but still new, collapsing cliffs near Cleethorpes. John O'Groats and isolation. The size of the sky on North Uist.
A breath of fresh air.
Coming home is the most comforting and re-energising of experiences. Driving or being driven by The Bus Driver back down the A83 after Tarbert on the way home to Campbeltown is one of my favourite things. The changing sky over the Atlantic out past Northern Island. Home to times with the family. Ineke. The boys bantering among themselves and joining forces to mock the Old Man. The Aqualibrium...The library beneath the swimming pool! Friday night take-aways from The Taj Mahal, our local Bangladeshi. Bengullion, looking down upon us. Walking up or down Longrow and Mainstreet seeing faces that have become part of my life.
Bathing in the familiar.
I'm back on Monday, or Tuesday. Hopefully still be blogging while I'm away though.
The line "I want to sail away on the seven seas" is from my unreleased song Fog.
Fee Comes Fourth
Wednesday 5 February 2014
"It Often Seems The Stones And Me Are Not Quite The Right Shape"
It: a deer a female deer. I saw one on the way up AND on the way down Bengullion the other morning
Often: I spend time thinking about the future
Seems: like the rain is making up for lost time. Perhaps I should build an Ark
The: meaning of life is
Stones: are useful tools for building a world dominating species
And: now for something completely different
Me: and my lovely wife have been wonderfully incompatible for 28 years
Are: you still reading?
Not: Oh :(
Quite: what is going on in my head is a mystery
The: answer is out there somewhere
Right: Right?
Shape: my hand and we'll call it quits.
The line "It often seems the stones and me are not quite the right shape" is from my song Eight (January 4th 2013)
Often: I spend time thinking about the future
Seems: like the rain is making up for lost time. Perhaps I should build an Ark
The: meaning of life is
Stones: are useful tools for building a world dominating species
And: now for something completely different
Me: and my lovely wife have been wonderfully incompatible for 28 years
Are: you still reading?
Not: Oh :(
Quite: what is going on in my head is a mystery
The: answer is out there somewhere
Right: Right?
Shape: my hand and we'll call it quits.
The line "It often seems the stones and me are not quite the right shape" is from my song Eight (January 4th 2013)
Tuesday 4 February 2014
"For You, Me, And Everybody"
I think the name of the first boy I saw coming to school with a Mohican was Cary. And it wasn't a half- hearted effort. Bright purple and it doubled the size of his head. I was more than a little bit in awe, being someone who had done their best, not always successfully, to fade into the background. I wasn't a punk.
Sticking your head where it can be noticed is a risk. The world is full of people who will be prepared to take a shot at you for having the audacity. Maybe it's in school where we learn the art. You can't be wrong if you never answer teacher's questions. You don't get laughed at or bullied if nobody knows you are there.
These days I aspire to be the one prepared to make a fool of themselves. I mean for most of us, getting laughed at is the worst that can happen. No one is going to kill us.
However, I digress. Because this blog was meant to be about what we have in common.
The truth is that the real legends in life are the ones who risk that little bit more to teach us that as human beings, we have the same blood, we should work to together, we shouldn't fight. In fact they stand out in order to show us what we have in common.
Nelson Mandela was imprisoned, Martin Luther King shot, for putting their heads above the parapet and shouting out loud that our life blood is the same, skin colour irrelevant.
Ghandi got himself shot for visibly demonstrating that the solution to oppression between religions and classes should be strong, head held high, cooperative, peaceful resistance. Because violence against others is violence against ourselves. We are the same.
The lone man standing in front of the tanks at Tiananmen Square was standing up for what he shared
with his fellow Chinese, not for what made him different. A desire to exist without oppression from his fellow human beings.
And Cary. Cary was a blooming peacock. And his hair stood proud for the suppressed beauty in all of us school children who had too quickly learned to hide our lights.
But we can unlearn too.
The line "For You, Me, And Everybody" is from today's Fee Comes Fourth tune Life Is Difficult. You can download it for free by following the link.
Sticking your head where it can be noticed is a risk. The world is full of people who will be prepared to take a shot at you for having the audacity. Maybe it's in school where we learn the art. You can't be wrong if you never answer teacher's questions. You don't get laughed at or bullied if nobody knows you are there.
These days I aspire to be the one prepared to make a fool of themselves. I mean for most of us, getting laughed at is the worst that can happen. No one is going to kill us.
However, I digress. Because this blog was meant to be about what we have in common.
The truth is that the real legends in life are the ones who risk that little bit more to teach us that as human beings, we have the same blood, we should work to together, we shouldn't fight. In fact they stand out in order to show us what we have in common.
Nelson Mandela was imprisoned, Martin Luther King shot, for putting their heads above the parapet and shouting out loud that our life blood is the same, skin colour irrelevant.
Ghandi got himself shot for visibly demonstrating that the solution to oppression between religions and classes should be strong, head held high, cooperative, peaceful resistance. Because violence against others is violence against ourselves. We are the same.
The lone man standing in front of the tanks at Tiananmen Square was standing up for what he shared
with his fellow Chinese, not for what made him different. A desire to exist without oppression from his fellow human beings.
And Cary. Cary was a blooming peacock. And his hair stood proud for the suppressed beauty in all of us school children who had too quickly learned to hide our lights.
But we can unlearn too.
The line "For You, Me, And Everybody" is from today's Fee Comes Fourth tune Life Is Difficult. You can download it for free by following the link.
Monday 3 February 2014
"Who Wants To Sing It, The Last Song Standing"
For those who are only familiar with this fairly recent blogging, it's time to tell you about my songs. About 19 months ago I made the decision to release a new song on the fourth of every month. For ever and ever amen! And if you sign up at my website you can get those songs for free.
So far so good. I haven't missed a month, and I'm still talking to Sam Hales who takes a large bite of credit for production work on the Fee Comes Fourth tunes. The biggest struggle is choosing which ones to record, as golden oldies (at least in my head) compete with the new ones that keep popping out before I've got their rooms ready. And before I know what colour of wallpaper to choose.
As well as the songs themselves, and this daily blog based on a random lyric, I'm also planning to do a weekly video recording to put up on Youtube or Vimeo or something similar. But not quite yet. If there's anyone reading in the Kintyre area who would be interested in helping me with the video side of things, feel free to make yourself known.
I hope you're getting something out of my ramblings and warblings. The internet is like a world wide speakers corner with anyone and everyone able to park their soapbox and make a noise. You can always switch me off though if it all gets too much. Because, get used to the idea, I'm planning to be in your faces till the Last Song Standing. Don't worry. I'm enjoying myself. Whether you're listening or not.
Oh, and BTW, it's the fourth of the month tomorrow. There's a new song coming out. Haven't you been paying attention.
The line "Who wants to sing it, the last song standing" is from my song Last Song Standing - July 4th 2012.
So far so good. I haven't missed a month, and I'm still talking to Sam Hales who takes a large bite of credit for production work on the Fee Comes Fourth tunes. The biggest struggle is choosing which ones to record, as golden oldies (at least in my head) compete with the new ones that keep popping out before I've got their rooms ready. And before I know what colour of wallpaper to choose.
As well as the songs themselves, and this daily blog based on a random lyric, I'm also planning to do a weekly video recording to put up on Youtube or Vimeo or something similar. But not quite yet. If there's anyone reading in the Kintyre area who would be interested in helping me with the video side of things, feel free to make yourself known.
I hope you're getting something out of my ramblings and warblings. The internet is like a world wide speakers corner with anyone and everyone able to park their soapbox and make a noise. You can always switch me off though if it all gets too much. Because, get used to the idea, I'm planning to be in your faces till the Last Song Standing. Don't worry. I'm enjoying myself. Whether you're listening or not.
Oh, and BTW, it's the fourth of the month tomorrow. There's a new song coming out. Haven't you been paying attention.
The line "Who wants to sing it, the last song standing" is from my song Last Song Standing - July 4th 2012.
Sunday 2 February 2014
"Like A Little Child, But Nobodies Fool"
Unless you become like a little child you cannot enter the kingdom of God. These are words that Jesus, the famous one, is quoted as saying. I like the quote.
It's not just a quote for me. It's a life goal. Getting (back) that sense of fun, the unambiguous questioning...the kind of questioning that scientists try to achieve, physical un-inhibition, and faith in the impossible. The innocence. And a bubbly joy in silliness.
Shame that the vast majority of us have to spend a lifetime recovering something that was our birthright. Makes you wonder where the stealing of it happens.
One thing is certain. The thieves are fools. I've been a fool in my time. I consider it to be a great achievement whenever I refrain from stealing someone else's child likeness. Including my own.
The line "Like a little child, but nobodies fool" is from my song Carry On, Keri-Anne (The Dodgy Hip Sessions)
Saturday 1 February 2014
"Coming To You At The Speed Of Light"
Not. Have you ever tried typing a blog on an iPad keyboard when the computer is out of action.
And it's a Saturday night. You could be doing something interesting, and I don't want to keep you from it.
Goodnight.
"Coming to you t the speed of light" is from my song Far on Fee Comes Fourth december 4th 2012.
And it's a Saturday night. You could be doing something interesting, and I don't want to keep you from it.
Goodnight.
"Coming to you t the speed of light" is from my song Far on Fee Comes Fourth december 4th 2012.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)