It being the 50th Anniversary of the founding of Island Records they've re-released a number of their most significant albums. So I've already picked up Marianne Faithfull - Broken English for a fiver. Last week it was Linton Kwesi Johnson's - Forces of Victory. Similar to John Cooper Clarke, Linton Kwesi Johnson's career seemed to blossom so fully in the mid-eighties, and was so much identifited with that era, that he's done precious little since. This album along with Dread, Beat & Blood, was such a politicised peach, a real product of its era, of recession, SUS laws, and rising National Front activism. Nothing much has changed, only the names we call things by, so this record still seems painfully relevant to me. Forceful words here are toasted over equally forceful music, characterised by a subtle, well rounded dub sound, engineered by Dennis Bovell. It's hard to not want to pick all of these tracks out as highlights, but my personal favourites are - Sonny's Letter - Independent Intavension & Fite Dem Back - with its catchy, but disturbing football style chant -' smash their brains in, cos they aint got nothing in em'. He still performs from time to time apparently, but his recorded output has all but ceased.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
DIARY 108 - Fortuitous Times

108 is considered in Buddhism, via a sort of reverse logic, a rather fortuitous number. It's said to be the number of defilement's that have to be overcome before one can become Enlightened. One must assume then that its fortuitous because there are considered to be so few. Irrespective of this fact, this is my 108th Diary entry. Regardless of how few, or many, of the defilement's I've managed to further entangle myself with whilst writing this blog - I've been devoted to it for some time. The blog sphere itself might be considered a contemporary defilement - built as it is on ego,pride and self aggrandisement. Whether anyone else is really that interested in the neurotic twitterings of a fifty something gay Buddhist, I obviously still flatter myself by believing that somebody might be, apart from me that is. So I continue to web-ramble.

Since my last posting I've at last moved on from managing Windhorse Customer Services. It feels such a great relief. My new temporary post in the Property Team, is suiting me much much better, and I'm quite looking forward to going into work once more. I don't have quite the breadth of experience and practical skills of some of the team, but I can helpfully contribute in specific areas of detail and decorating. This is only a brief two month secondment, whilst two guys from that team are away getting ordained. Once they return in August, I too will move on to the delights and rhythms of Warehouse work. This last weekend, I was up in Sheffield as part of a team re-painting one of our shops there. I think it went relatively smoothly. It was the first real test of how my back would hold up over three twelve hour working days consecutively. The answer is quite well. My usual lower left back ache I hardly felt. My back felt tired or sore, ached in an understandable way, but not painfully so. So that proves the effectiveness of three months of my back exercise regime.

The only down point of the Sheffield weekend, was the B & B, which was above a gastro Pub, which on the first evening had late night opening i.e beyond midnight. I got precious little or no sleep. There were numerous loud half cut conversations of smokers, or people waiting for a taxi, on the outside pavement, or fellow B&B residents singing the same chanting refrain over and over at half past three in the morning. The room itself was quite well decorated, but with no en-suite. The toilet and showers, however, were outside my room, and combined with the laminate flooring in the corridor there was almost a perpetual echo of platter, clatter and natter along to it. Every time I was on the edge of dropping off, there would be the loud creak of a door opening, and a bare footed waddle and slapping noise along the floor, a discernible peeing noise, and the noises in reverse, concluding with a turning of a latch. Lying there kept constantly awake by all this noise from the thoroughfare, I began to hear sounds and wondered exactly what it was I was hearing. At one point there was this muffled distant noise that reminded me of a pigeon cooing. After a while I noticed it broke off and resumed rather too irregularly for that to be so. Then it suddenly dawned, and I was quite startled if not surprised by the realisation, though quite why I couldn't say, that it might be the noises of human love making, or worse still, pigeon lovemaking!


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