Category: Uncategorised

The first thing I want to record here is the most gonzo dreams I think I’ve ever had. Not sure I actually can record them, as they were so intense, weird and far ranging.

I’ll just do a stream of consciousness dump, and hope I get down a fraction of what is fast fading from waking consciousness (poss/prob a good thing?):

Rats, lots of flesh-eating poss’ humano-hybrid rats… segueing into totally weird (fungi style?) morphing psychedelic segment, a la Cal Schenkel animation, in which tendrils from nostrils morph and liquify, into, well… ‘everything everywhere all at once’.

Alien nuclear weapons, already trained on/or just randomly arriving at Earth. Multifaceted buildings coated with cellular windows, and locomotive train like projections, all over.

A sequence where simultaneously we’re dealing with a baby that falls into a river, is washed away, then rescued, and poss’ then sold; human trafficking (of semi-vegetative folk); meltdown at an outraged trailer park/campsite/fairground owner: and various other weird strands that now escape me.

I’ll leave the dream-dump there for now. I might return to it, as and when more of the psychedelic kaleidoscopic content returns to consciousness? One over-riding keynote throughout many parts of it all was being submerged in apocalyptic levels of fear.

Alas, that last – whilst most of the rest seems like a weird ‘mental flushing’ – seems only too well connected with the panic-inducing reality I’m currently facing, of zero-income vs. continuous outgoings.

But I want to move on to a related issue, which is where the ‘slight problem’ in the title of this post comes in. And that’s my current preference for sleep, or unconsciousness, as a state of being. Even if I’m dreaming frightening weird shit. Preferable, that is, at least – see yesterday’s forced self-awakening episode – up to a point.

Again this connects all too readily with the less than pleasant realities of my current situation. I want to be asleep or unconscious, because that’s way preferable to being awake and conscious, with all that the latter entails.

It’s a form, I guess, of pseudo-suicide. I can’t be bothered, or I’m not bold (or crazy/stupid?) enough to enact a real physical self-termination. But if I just effectively switch myself off, maybe it’ll ultimately amount to much the same thing?

Like my dreams this morning. This is rolling along fairly scary lines, to be honest. Maybe some context will illuminate things a little? Maybe not? Who knows. I feel I’m past caring but I hope I’m wrong about that?

Anyway, I generally go to bed between about 7.30-8.30pm these days. I like to turn in early. Maybe do a bit on the blog. And definitely – as long as I’m not too tired to do even this – to read.

Reading is one pleasurable activity I can still regularly engage in. Currently I’m nearing the end of volume three of Shelby Foote’s The Civil War. I’m slightly dreading reaching the end, partly ‘cause I’m not sure what to read next.

Last night – and this is happening increasingly frequently at the moment – I woke around 3am. Most often, as indeed with last night, I will simply try and get back to sleep. Often this takes a good while. Normally I’ll have rain sounds playing, in the YT app, to help me slumber.

I might do something on my phone – but I try not to (screen time can be over-stimulating) – or I may read. Very occasionally I’ll get up and do stuff. The main aim is to get back to sleep. And once there, stay there.

I’m acutely and painfully aware that really I need to be up and active, to address my current problems. But I’m simultaneously acutely and painfully aware that I really don’t want to be.

I certainly need to expand my affirmation cue-card set, which is currently predominantly about trying to relax and not super-stress, to include much more active doing stuff type admonitions.

But I desperately need to somehow train or cajole my kind into wanting to be awake/conscious and dealing with, aka solving, my current livelihood (and other) conundrums.

My attempts to sell stuff, mostly musical instruments at this point, feel like pissing into a force 10 gale, so far. I suppose I need to expand these efforts, and add a whole load of other shit: books and models, for example.

But again, it all feels like too little and too late. So why even bother?

WHY???

To avert utter catastrophe… you dumbass nincompoop!

I think I’d better call Samaritans, immediately. And the doc’s shortly thereafter. It’s clear I need some kind of psychological intervention type help.

Those two things done, I must get up, get dressed, and get on. At the very least to make a determined effort to sell as much stuff as quickly as poss’. But also to find some other ways I might get some money in. Like some kind of ‘without wheels’ work, starting ASAP.

Despite or because of the ‘heaviness’ of this post, I feel the levity of Muppet-land as a source for accompanying imagery is apt.

This, the English language edition of the Hergé Museum’s guide, is a terrific little book. I bought my copy from the Museum itself, whilst on a visit to Belgium for the Battle of Waterloo bicentennial celebrations, back in 2015.

At only 78 or so pages, it’s a small thing. The format is just off square (17×17.5cm), and I t’s beautifully designed and printed, as befits it’s subject. Some of my pics – taken whilst reading the book in bed, in low light – are a bit dark. But never mind!

The book starts with brief contributions from the architect and ‘scenographer’ of the Museum itself, Christian de Portzamparc and Joost Swartz. After which it moves, as if through the eight main rooms of the building, giving a ‘chapter’ for each, with a short two page timeline at the end.

The eight room themed chapters are titled as follows:

Room 1 - A life’s journey
Room 2 - A man of many talents
Room 3 - Family from the drawing board
Room 4 - Cinema
Room 5 - The laboratory 
Room 6 - Dreaming of travel
Room 7 - Studio Hergé
Room 8 - Hergé acclaimed

Each chapter explores Hergé’s life and works, succinctly but informatively, via a theme. You can guess these themes pretty easily/accurately from the chapter headings.

If you want lots of detail on any aspect of Hergé’s career, you’ll need to consult more in depth works (e.g. biographies, such as this [link]). But as a light and fun way to learn a little about Hergé, whilst revelling in the pure joy of admiring his work, this is perfect.

So, all in all, you get a little bit of info’ about the Museum itself, a decent chunk on Hergé’s life, from start to finish, plus plentiful example of his work, from the earliest to the last.

And whilst Tintin looms large, as of course one would fully expect, there’s much besides: from his early Boy Scout stuff, to his design and advertising work, and taking in his other less well known cartoon creations, like Quick & Flupke, or Joe, Zette & Rocko.

I occasionally pick this slim little volume up, and peruse it. Sometimes working stolidly, from start to finish, but more often dipping in at random. It never fails to put a smile on my face. Enlightening and entertaining.

There’s also some modest homely wisdom to be learned from Hergé’s example. Alas, idiot that I am, I still haven’t taken to heart what he could’ve taught me oh so many years ago. But the insights are there, even if I (stubbornly and moronically?) refuse to adopt them!

Anyway, all told a terrific wee tome, that punches well above its weight. Granted, the slightly hagiographic text reads a bit oddly in places, having a rather florid Gallic feel. Something to do with the translation, and differences in national styles, possibly?

But that doesn’t seriously diminish the overall richness of the experience. At least not for me. Highly recommended.

And as a follow up, here are some Hergé related images not to be found in this book:

And to finish, a smaller version of this last picture, below, is included.

Just had to awaken myself out of rather unpleasant paranoiac dreams. In these dreams Teresa and I didn’t seem to have a home. Or even know where we lived. I was kipping in the bedroom of an ol’ pal.

His room morphed from a messy hippy type deal, to a spic n’ span room, full of Indian trinkets, with three foreign guys (London taxi drivers, of unknown ethnicity) in it.

His place, accessed by a tiny wooden portal, overgrown with ivy, was perched on a vertigo inducing sea-front precipice. I was in his bed – he was kipping on the floor – from which I was unable to escape, due to a combo of priapism and lack of vestments!

I was also a pupil somehow, of a primary school, in my ‘50s, but playing truant. And I seemed to be on some form of scooter-like (but emphatically not a scooter) near invisible transport, zipping alongside an arid desert-like road.

My host went to work, whilst I hid under my duvet. We have the first obvious meeting with reality there! As I’m still abed.

There was also a theme of lots of people, mostly hippy-ish former clubber types, abounding; some I knew, most I didn’t. All icily ignored me, or referred to me third party/persona non grata.

I had had a vehicle parked up, near the friends home, down a long sandy switchback track, again near the sea. But my vehicle had disappeared! Here the dream again touches fairly obviously on my current reality.

The fear/paranoia element was growing so overwhelmingly strong I forced myself, as it appears one can do at need, to wake up.

Upon waking I’ve made myself a bacon butty, and heated up the flask of coffee Teresa usually makes for me at the start of the day (bless her!).

I’ve subsequently rung my insurer, to try and light a fire under their pursuit of my recent ‘total loss’ claim. And I’m going to continue with my efforts to advertise and sell as much music gear as possible.

The above is a screenshot, or ‘capture’, of the last image in a series that the Google Photos app just ‘pinged’ me with. I actually rather like the bouillabaisse of images it has presented.

There’s Gillray era/style stuff, some Steve Bell, even a bit of Tintin/Hergé. Lots of Napoleonic/Georgian images, and a few oddments, such as ‘The Dandy’s Perambulations’, and ‘The Peacock’s Complaint’.

All told, a rather rich soup of visual imagery!

* I don’t recall where, how or why I first encountered this. But I must’ve done so. And I must’ve liked it enough to store the picture in Google Photos. I like the sort of homespun advice, as well. I’m not always receptive to such admonitions. But right now, I am!

I went to bed today at 8.20 pm. Been typing up the drum hardware inventory since then. When I’d finished doing that, I spotted an interesting looking new YT snooker vid… this one. Joe O’Connor is not a name I knew. Now I do. He was as cool as a cue-cumber – see what I did, there? – on this break. Great stuff!

Today I’ve been inventorying all my drum and cymbal hardware. Or at least as much of it as I can lay my hands on. There’s still one or two bits laying around, such as a drum stool in the music room/office.

In the above picture, working clockwise from the Gibraltar hi-hat, at six-o’clock, there’s: a bunch of Yamaha stuff (the most numerous and most heavy-duty); a Premier triple-mount (across the centre); some unknown brand; CB Drums; and finally, two Big Dog (a now sadly defunct British brand) snare stands.

I didn’t get through all of it, either. There’s a bag full of floor-tom legs that I haven’t looked through yet. But this post is a place to catalogue the bulk of it.

The next pic’, above, is all the Gibraltar bits n’ pieces, which I mostly bought when I got my Gretsch Catalina Club Jazz kit. Not sure if I’ll keep or sell all this?

The aforementioned Gretsch kit only included a very few bits of hardware: the rack-tom pillar, and the floor-tom legs. I’ll only be selling these bits if I sell that kit.

The above is the portion of Mapex hardware I’ve set aside so far. In addition to this there’s a double-kick pedal (pictured below), and six floor-tom legs, which are mixed in with a whole load of floor-tom legs that need sorting out.

These next, pictured below, are unbranded, as far as I can see. I’m not sure how saleable these are, as they (ahem!) stand, as they appear to be missing various bits. I’m hoping I’ll be able to fix up any stands that are missing parts.

The same goes for some of this CB Drums hardware. I’d need a cushion for the seat. And a top part for one of the cymbal stands. This is definitely stuff I want rid of.

I think I’ll keep these two Big Dog snare stands, pictured below, at least for now. They’re useful for practice pads, secondary snares, or even Bonham style mounting of rack toms.

The biggest chunk of gear, by far, and I think I want to sell pretty much all of it, is the very heavy duty Yamaha (?) Series gear. I got this stuff to go with my Ayotte kit, many, many moons ago.

It’s superb stuff. And great for a permanent set up. But it’s too bulky and heavy for carting round gigging. That said, I did a lot of exactly that, for many years, with this very gear.

But that experience left me wanting to only use much lighter weight stuff! But then again, I might be jacking it all in anyway? So that may all be academic, now.

As well as being the most numerous, in terms of numbers of stands, the Yammy gear is also the stuff with most ancillary bits n’ bobs. Such as all the different length boom arms, pictured below.

Numerous further extras, and the very essential snare stand. These and the previous oddments allowed me to vary my cymbal set ups, and add percussion bits n’ pieces.

I hope I can shift all this Yamaha hardware? And I’m even more fervently hoping it’ll raise a few bob.

There are a number of other non-Yamaha oddments. Most of which I know what they are. But one or two I don’t. This is a mystery item:

Is the above some kind of percussion doodad holder? It looks like it wood have to mount on a very thin pole or stand… attached by the bit at left, in the above photo. Hmm!?

This Vruk thing, pictured below, is a pedal-extender, designed to amplify the effectiveness of a rocking back n’ forth heel-toe technique.

I got it after doing a review piece on it for Drummer, many years ago. The guy who makes them let me keep it. But once again, I’ve pretty much never used it. I wonder if anyone might buy it?

Then there’s stuff like these Pearl bits:

I also have some Pearl toms, inc. a couple of those Pearl rim mounts. I wanted to make a few mini bespoke busking type jellybean kits, with the various drums and shells I have laying around. But I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon. So I’ll probably try and sell these odd drums.

Although I recently bought two vintage Premier stands, perhaps a tad foolishly (given recent events), until then, the only Premier hardware I had was this heavy duty triple mount. This could mount all sorts, such as two toms and a cymbal, for example.

These three, pictured above, are the three Ayotte ball-joint tom mounts, which came as part of the Ayotte kit I bought getting on for 25 or 30 years ago now. The kit is beautiful. But slightly odd and a little over-engineered.

I think all three of these ball-mounts no are both no longer complete, nor in good working order. That’s really hurting and annoying, as I really want to sell the Ayotte. But can’t, until these are fixed.

Ayotte is now defunct. So fixing these is a right cause-ache!

I’d like to say ‘last and most definitely least’, for the above L-clamps. But there is more…

I actually have three of these jingle-bells doodads. These two, and one that’s still plastic wrapped.

And finally, to round this post of, a bit of tinkering, by way of trying to restore a damaged part. In the above pic I’ve already ‘straightened’ out the bent thread by about 10°!

Trying to get it perfectly straight was getting nowhere. So I hacksawed it off. It was still incredibly difficult to remove the threaded bolt. But persistence paid off, and I finally succeeded.

Trying to unscrew the sawn off thread was ridiculously hard work. I’d only got it about a third of the way out, by which time I’d ground away the Philips head. As the above image attests, I then tried to saw/file a straight cut into it, for a normal flathead screwdriver. But the latter just kept slipping out. In the end it was a pair of ‘mole-grips’ that did the job.

A lot of work on a crappy old stand, which still requires not just a new threaded bolt, but washers, felts and a wing-nut. Is it worth the bother?

Anyway, that’s all for now, folks.

Teresa just sat down beside me, at the dining table, and, observing me, said ‘You don’t have to rush. Just take your time.’

Modern life has the habit of making one tense up, and rush everything, alas. I find it pretty hard to relax, other than when asleep; hence my ardent love of sleep!

This post is about that side of today. We lay in till midday. Lunch was a delicious pork curry, of leftovers, with rice and dhal. After that we played cards.

This afternoon I’ve been sorting through drum/cymbal hardware, with a view to selling as much of it as I can bear to par with.

It’s my intention to only keep the minimum necessary for the one or two drum kits I might keep. The rest of my drum-sets, which is somewhere between two to four, I’m hoping to sell, ASAP.

Not ‘cause I want to, btw. But ‘cause needs must. But I’ll post about that separately, methinks. This little post is, or was, about trying to chill on a Sunday. Which I’m managing to do, despite crushing fiscal anxieties.

I’ve woken up, at about 3.45 am.

Appalling depressive thoughts crowd my mind. Which is very normal for me. A desire to end my struggles with life by simply throwing in the towel.

I consult my affirmation cue-cards: lots of admonitions to remain calm/enjoy life. Less about how to effectively live it. Might need to address this!

Listening to rain sounds on YT, as normal these days, to help me sleep. At least I’m not dependent on pills.

I reflect on one positive thing – although to parts of my mind it feels like a loss, and an admission of feebleness, etc. – and that’s my cessation of desire for intoxication.

It’s starting to feel, and has for quite some time now, thankfully, that I simply no longer have the desire to medicate my woes by seeking oblivion in booze, or whatever.

I’m fervently hoping that this is indeed a lesson learned.

Then there are patterns. A newly emergent pattern is early waking. What do I do about it? Normally I just try and continue sleep. But now, I’m typing this. And after, I might go back to reading?

Teresa’s taken to leaving a sidelight on in our room. I might need to turn it off, to help me sleep? Small details like this can assume enormous, even terrifying, proportions. When you feel you’re teetering on the brink.

I knew I’d ordered this CD, as it’s in my Amazon ‘order history’. But I hadn’t been able to find it since I ordered it. Despite the order status saying ‘delivered’. I’d kind of given up on it, to be honest.

I bought it for myself as a reward for good behaviour, during a particularly troubled period, not that long ago. Each week I abstained from intoxication, I would reward myself with a small ‘prize’. This was one such.

I was also going through a slight J-Jazz phase, exploring more jazzy biz from the Land of The Rising Sun, thanks to the influence of artists like Casiopea and Masayoshi Takanaka.

Anyways, I’m glad Teresa found it. Thanks, love! Next step… listen to it. Not right now, tho’, as Teresa’s watching The Blue Planet II.

This isn’t – at least not yet – a review. It’s just a place for me to put up the above linked YouTube video, to listen to and potentially share with others, as a part of my newly begun exploration of Charles Gavin’s 25 selections for the 2006 Som Livre Masters.

So far what I’ve heard, of both this and other recordings on the list, is proving wonderful. Just down my boulevard.

Linguas de Fogo translates as Tongues of Fire. Here are the Brazilian Portuguese lyrics for the title track:

Deixa o meu verso passar
Como passa no ar
Esse sopro de vento
Que faz em seu corpo
Bem mais que fariam
Palavras no seu pensamento

Deixa o meu verso passar
Como passa no mar
Essa onda que dança
E que faz em seu corpo
Bem mais que fariam
Palavras na sua lembrança

Deixa o meu verso lamber
Entre as línguas de fogo
Deixa o meu verso correr
Entre as cartas do jogo

Pra onde vai o som
Depois que o escutamos?
Pra onde vai a voz
Que vem de nós?
Pra onde vamos?

And here’s my (slightly tweaked) Google Translate rendering:

Let my verse pass
How it passes in the air
A breath of wind
What do these words do to your body?
Much more than they would
As just words in your thoughts

Let my verse pass
How does it fare at sea
This wave that dances
What do these words do to your body?
Much more than they would
As just words in your memory

Let my verse flicker 
Amongst tongues of fire
Let my verse run
Amongst the playing cards

Where does the sound go
After we hear it?
Where does the voice go?
What comes from us?
Where are we going?

I utterly adore the poetic philosophical vibe of these words. I even flatter myself that some of my own songs explore similar territory.

It’s interesting to note that amongst the musician credits there are numerous names I recognise, such as Toninho Horta (guitar), Luiz Alves (bass), and Danilo Caymmi (flute, backing vocals).

I have plenty of other music these guys appear on. And it’s nice to see some of them are still going; Luiz Alves, for example, played with Arthur Verocai on some of the latter’s fairly recent ‘comeback’ performances.

I plan to explore all 25 of Charles Gavin’s choices/recommendations. And so far, so very, very good.