birdwords-the-old

Birdw0rds has moved

2006-11-26T12:11:00.001-05:00

Birdw0rds has moved to HERE.

birdw0rks dot com

2006-11-21T13:08:00.000-05:00

Birdw0rks Central has been rejuvenated.

Took an age over the weekend to re-format a few of the old pages, create a couple of new ones, relink everything, migrate it all to the newly-purchased birdw0rks dot com and start properly organising the better of what's become a driveload of mp3s. There're still a few teething problems with the site that I'm hoping Quaz will have a chance to look over at some point, but things're coming together. My own pretty-ropey back catalogue has swelled over the years.

I also activated the RSS feed to create the Birdw0rks Podcast - which will be where I post new w0rks direct to folks' pods from now on. (Hit Ctrl-U or "Subscribe to Podcast" from the Advanced menu in iTunes and paste in the RSS URL to subscribe.) Stop press: it's now availalbe directly from iTunes.

First track on the RSS feed, as part of the flickr-oriented imagemusic project, is inspired by Shooz's "Healing Landscape" image:.

Am quite happy with how that ended up sounding after multi-layering and playing with a slew of rhythm loops. Again, ate away the time, but worth the struggle in the end. Direct link to mp3 here.

Second track, just added is Wild Ideas, inspired by AuntieK's image:

The next three tracks are all in the w0rks. As with one of these, occassionally the process of churning out the tune is painful and tense - a struggle to slot the thing together and technically get in into any kind of desired shape. Once you've been through that mire, however, you feel somewhat lighter as if you've had an annoying blockage removed; as long as you're reasonably happy with the sonic product, it's rewarding. Musical enima anyone?

Podalive

2006-11-18T23:08:00.000-05:00

The New York Flickerite Podcast is back!

Episode 3 is available via the RSS feed and, now that I've just pinged them, is up on iTunes. Mp3 can be grabbed directly from here.

This episode features Shortcake26 and Aaron Edwards. Fat thanks to them for participating.

The Website's in poor shape, but is being revamped and will be reborn soon.

Took a poondaflesh with editing, splicing, compiling, mixing, re-editing, and so on, but got there. Next one will hopefully be out before too long once I've regrouped that flickerite pod part of the brain.

Birdw0rks podcast should also be up & running v. shortly n'all. Might aswell strick when the pods're warm...

Hen Meat: What Flesh!

2006-11-03T13:51:00.000-05:00

A fun moosikal project has been taking a chunk of BigAl clay and scraping/thumping it into a steaming lump of birdw0rks. The result is here, at the new home for birdw0rks central, birdw0rks.com (very much in need of updating and editing, as it be...)

A direct link to Al's original ditty is here.

Aiming with the eyes shut

2006-11-01T17:06:00.000-05:00

Am in one city for a week for the first time in a while. (I keep leaving the house checking to make sure I've a boarding pass...)

The New York Flickerite podcast is finally under way once more. Now that the clocks have retarded and the cool autumn nights are schlurping in, I am nudging myself toward long-overdue sonic editing. The ex-Evile One, Mr. Crotchcap is the first on the splice block. Once I have chance to capture the dulcet tones of the Fleecieone for voices from the crisper intros, we'll be set to roll proper again with Episode 3. There are at least 6 or 7 other bods that I did the photo wander and record thang with last winter and a fat number of hours to earlobe it through, but at least the pod is rolling.

Birdw0rks have finally hit iTunes too, with the Omelette available in full. According to CDBaby, I've also just earnt a juicy 5 cents via Napster plays, n'all. All proceeds from plakky copy CD and digital sales go to the UK M.S. Society, so if you're reading this and you fancy donating a little moolah to a good cause in return for some ropey, badly-conceived bird moosak, please click accordingly.

And a congrats to Her With the New Bump!

From the Longest Crawl

2006-10-31T11:31:00.000-05:00

"Life......broken down into its constituent years, days, hours, minutes, plotted on a graph, the rhythms resemble one another from moment to moment, and year to year; we have good days and bad days, minor ups and downs as a rule, puncutated by wild, inexplicable turns of fortune; peaks and troughs where your life crashes, or springs into a period of uncontrollable growth and change. And if you're British, to help you climb the slopes, and help smooth the slide into the valleys, there's booze."

From Ian Marchant (who, I would predict, would come across as a bit of a prat in real life, but who, in the printed word, is pretty entertaining).

Return to the Aruss of Tex

2006-10-26T16:32:00.000-04:00

Whuhh whuhh whuhhhh work has taken me back to the southwest for the first time in a while. A desert roam for a few days in Nude Mex and then east to the Arse of Tex for many miles flitting between the concrete cities on concrete highways.

The things one generally misses about the deeesert are the lifting of the humidty helmet that you’re virtually unaware of elsewhere (the air’s particuarly light and fluffy (and the light particularly airy and fluff-free)) and the big sky, sudden-mountain, ebb and flow landscapes. Show off sunsets and mountain cloud displays tickle the retinas in NM. It’s generally a crappy place to live long-term, mind, due mainly to the cultural isolation and dip-spit local menalities. Yung Selks is finding this to her cost, natch. She gracefully loaned a few pages of oily newspaper for me to shelter under in Albusquirty while I was there, and showed me a good time out at a bus stop and in a 7-11. Her recent brain reboot and consequent fatique scuppered my plan to record her dulcet tones reading her brain leavings for future moosakal useage, but I’ll capture a chunk of her wordage on wav at some point. I did capture her nebb.

I catapulted south down to Lost Clueless to see the Outlaws and a visiting Fleeciebeast. We admired backyard motors-on-bricks, saw old mates in Historic-with-a-capital-H Mesilla, and flew into a storm from El Paso to Houston a couple of days later. When we finally arrived in Hobby, the streets were underwater, cars were floating, and the river police were rescuing dolphins from the Galeria. Rumours among the milling baggage claim mongers at Hobby had it that between 12 and 16 inches had spat down on the city that day.

TX is still the land of big hair, bigger highways, and y'alling. And it's been a tad of a shock to be back in full-on car cultchahh – makes yer glad to live in places where the auto isn't a necessity for functionality. While there’re many natural/semi-natural wonders around, strip mall is what one can easily imagine as the dominant feature of the Texan landscape.

Has been a few years since I've been in Austin, the liberal island in the sea of Texan Shrubness, and was good to dip into its downtown thang with Chumplick and see a few of the faces of the Chosen Family that I've not for too long. Few folk have sprogged sprogs, grown dogs, bought property etc. since I was last there. Only drawback was being driven into by a young woman at a pedestrian crossing. Her vehicle ended up much worse off than mine and was a pretty crappy start to her birthday getting slapped with a You’ve Just Run Into the Back of Someone Else’s Car ticket. Luckily no one hurt and we could both safely drive away after talking with the local plod and being given the reems of obligatory paperwork to crunch through.

Have also returned to the strange environs of Aggieland in Bryan and College Station: Nice Place to Leave for the first time in almost a decade. A few buildings have shot up, but pretty much unchanged there in Brazos Co. The Wranglers, cowboy hats, and Hitler Youthesque corps of cadets still abound on the TAMU campus. I ran into a good number of familiar faces from the past during a brief, transient skip through town and old work haunts.

Sat now, in Houston, trying to find a hole in the weather to fly through in order to return northeastwards.

Completely unrelated quote of the day from the lips of Bruce Robinson:
“When you look through the binoculars of American entertainment, it’s stuffed with fear. Hollywood is basically about Yanks running away from special effects.”

Bridges under the water, just

2006-09-23T20:57:00.000-04:00

Time moves differently when your paddling - has a different temporal beat. Like any repetitive motion, perhaps, but there's summat unique when you're on the watter.

Unrelated:
While digging around looking for moose numbers in the public library, as you do, a very unhappy-looking Japanese girl sat opposite me, read briefly and hurridly from a book entitled "Keeping Love Alive", slammed it shut, and stormed off in a huff.

Green Roofs

2006-07-02T16:47:00.000-04:00

A green roof is a lightweight, engineered roofing system that encourages propagation of vegetation while protecting the integrity of the underlying roof structure. While the primary purpose of green roofs is to lower temperature, there are a range of benefits over traditional dark-coloured city rooftops. Vegetation lowers absorption and release of radiation and precipitation is trapped in foliage which increases local humidity and allows cooling via evapotranspiration. This decreases the energy used for cooling the building below

A green roof increases the longevity of the structure of the roof primarily by decreasing temperature variability and weathering, and lasts twice as long as a conventional roof covering. Rain water flow is regulated, decreasing storm water runoff and pollution into sewerage systems and the roof provides sound insulation to reduced noise. Other benefits include providing habitat for urban wildlife, reducing glare, increasing the aesthetic appeal (and hence value) of the building, and providing recreational space and educational resources.

Great examples can be found at the Solaire in Battery Park City, and its newly-opened sister building next door, the Verdesian. Both buildings are designed, built, and maintained in environmentally-friendly and sustainable ways. Waste disposal, water management, and energy systems decrease energy use, improve air quality, an reduce water pollution and waste.

More info. can be found here, here, here, here, and here.

Bollocks

2006-07-02T00:04:00.000-04:00

basically

Faux

2006-04-21T14:00:00.000-04:00

A 'poudaflesh' later and it's finally in saleable form. Proceeds donated to MS Society back in Blighty.

BIRDW0RKS: Faux Bon Omelette

Bird w0rking

Fleecie Empire

2006-03-24T10:57:00.000-05:00

Inthelivingroomlive

2006-02-18T21:08:00.000-05:00

This is the first ropey, voice-rusty acoustic track of a few to come (pity the neighbours...). Has been way too long since getting the larynx back in some kind of shape and w0rking through the ever-expanding acoustic-friendly birdw0rks songmass is the way. A good few big-sound, electric tracks in process, but I'm hanging back on vocal additives for those until the cobwebs are off the vox box. The 16-track studio has great potential for recording 'live' versions of the acoustics for now though - as often happens, project ideas grow from messing around with aimless strumming, & putting a new, naked take on older & newer songs appeals for now. I also like the contrast of recording time-consuming, multi-layered new compositions with the simple 2 track 6-string plus voice ditties. Playing that way regularly really changes the writing process n'all innit.

Not yet sure what will do with NYC photographic interviews currently being collected having largely parted ways with the Podarazzi project (artistic differences etc.). Own NYC Social Flickr group-related podcast, maybe? Content of said interviews is all ace so far & I've already started honing the mix skills & ideas to construct an amusing broadasst. Time suckingly consuming tho'.

Recent flick delights: Cache: paranoid French middle class stalked a go-go; docs. The Grizzly Man and Reel Paradise - interesting subjects you wouldn't necessarily want to spend long in the same room with; The Last Life in the Universe - excellent understated, wonderfully shot Japanese Librarian in Thailand sort of flick (you know, the Japanese Librarian in Thailand genre).

Cultural Differentiation

2006-02-03T10:46:00.000-05:00

In Britain:

Person 1: "I'm doing a new project I'm really excited about"

Person 2: "What do you want to bother doing that for?"

In America:

Person 1: "I'm doing a new project I'm really excited about"

Person 2: "How much money are you making from it?"

Podding it Downtown

2006-01-30T10:59:00.000-05:00

Spare time sucked away by the Podarazzi project recently. Getting whisked around downtown Manhattan with Flickr Star Kara to capture her verbal musings was superb: a part of town I don’t often spend time in and have never really explored at night, and Omeyisland is my-kind-of-mind, entertaining company. Architecturally olds versus new, light versus dark, short versus tall – contrasts innit.

Being somewhat clueless on the interview and digital editing front, it’s been a tough journey capturing verbiage and reducing the 90+ minutes of recorded sound down to a palatable quarter of an hour. Steep learning curve and a fat time investment, but things will get easier with next few interviews (lined up over next three weeks). Already know how to make both content and editing life easier on several fronts. Am looking forward to the comparison between different subjects’ perspectives on NYC photolife.

First podcast itself is slowly coming together having sampled Podarazzi Prima, Anth, and her introductory voice-overs. Again, it’s tricky getting things ‘right’ first time around while compiling the whole show, takes a pound of flesh, and time gets sucked down the pipe of rehash. Creative dribblings are leaking nicely though, there’s a good slice of new background birdw0rks moosak and daft verbal links, and we’re going to end up with something that’s original and hopefully of interest to others.

On the T. knee front, the Fleeciethang is moving around easier and has The Stitch taken out tomorrow. Physiotherapy & regular flapping in the pool should right things before too long, hopefully.

Cue Boids

2006-01-20T12:28:00.000-05:00

There is activation birdw0rkstudiowards. A couple of retroish-sounding tracks on the move and a couple more that were self-demoed last year that need a bit of rearrangement & a more juicy recording. The latter can be tricky - one loses that initial spark created during their birth sometimes. The re-creation is tighter, technically superior, but at that cost. More frivulous and fun moosak is being laid down for the blossoming Podaraazi project - hammering out a 16-bar loop for use as voice unders etc. makes for an excellent 2-3 hour distraction.

Recent flick views: Chronos from the Koyaanisqatsi et al. team is superb time lapse eye fillage. The incoming tide sequence from atop Mont St. Michel is just astounding. Kings & Queen needs an edit (2 1/2 hours stretches the character study attention a bit), works at times, falls flat at others - worth a view, not a keeper. Struggled through New Wave Italian classic Mamma Roma. Fellini did it better. The recent Bresson doc, the Impassioned Eye, is interesting, but not produced to my tastes. The bright spark that decided ropey voice over translations were better than subtitles needs slapping for a start. And these docs always suffer from the simple fact that just looking at photographs from the likes of Bresson will always be far more enguaging than any documentary on the photographer. A few interesting anecdotes here & there, but there could have been so much more about Bresson's life view, photographic method, & experiences around crucial historical events/periods.

Poor T. has her keyhole knee op. later today. Hopefully the resulting hobble will be quickly healed!

Moresoundofpod and Northern Cinematics

2006-01-11T17:32:00.000-05:00

There's more new pod-related w0rk and it's here.

This weeks cinematic delights from out east: Vodka Lemon - quirky frozen-north, Armenian bleaknesses; and The Return - snotty Russian kids with a father that wasn't, then suddenly was, then, er, really wasn't in the unfrozen wilderness. Both wuth a view, innit.

Poduliciousnesses

2006-01-10T09:45:00.000-05:00

Quick, usual south-north yo-yoing, trip back to Blighty, a vicious Brit Bird flu contracted (Eustacian tubes almost imploded during decent into JFK...), surfacing through the phlegmurky mire, and the head's popped out into 2006.

Hello.

Birdw0rking podcastwards to churn tunes & noises for Anth's sonic idea. First ditty ropily squeezed from the telecaster tube and sounds like this. Have also finally nabbed one of these with which to push into nyc photographers faces in search of verbal nuggets.

Resouthwesterisations

2005-12-12T18:14:00.000-05:00

Finally (finally) got around to digging out the southwestern text, a long-neglected writing project of which this is a mere tasty snippet, last night. Have begun to edit, reform, and ID the holes, many and varied as they are. Takes a pound of sweaty flesh this scribe lark, but time away from an early draft allows for fresh perspective and the ability to flex the verbal tendons.

Scophotosniftimagerland

2005-12-08T16:44:00.000-05:00

Has taken a while, but full Scotchshire tour is now up in birdw0rks' imageland here. Flip the slide show; shuffle around the geotags; sniff the nips.

Beautiful W0rds

2005-11-30T14:48:00.000-05:00

To paraphrase Woody Allen: the most beautiful phrase in the English language isn't "I love you", but "it's benign".

Benign lichenoid keratosis in this case.
[breathes freer]

Retrobirdw0rds #1

2005-11-30T11:59:00.000-05:00

Thursday, May 22nd, 2003

That’sthemartinimentalitycoldicewatergunsbleedings

H A N D R O L L F R O M H E L L

You see, there’s a change in the lighting voltage. Flicker fusion monkey vision – hubbah hubbah wanderlust lust wonder. Download drivel (drivelle?) off of the deep end. “The Mounts” – now, what does that suggest? Perfect symmetry. And a minge jiggle. “It’s good, but not the same.” Lob rate. Too much space; sweet juniper berry, Smithers. What exactly does Morcheeba mean, then? You forgot the Clapham North Beerorama, waffle, and Loose talk. We disgust her. And, I think she likes it. The year is different and Things (yes, Things) are planned. This recording is different (The Blackness of a Moorhen). Sevenoaks. Twelve weeks. Always smirk at your notes! “The very edge of Fuckybumbooboo”. Also scribbling feverishly. (Much better (pedals very slippery).) (No!!)

Nudesock Bulletin

2005-11-29T15:45:00.000-05:00

Blair to Decide on Haddock Pants by Next Summer

London Nov. 29th, 2005 - Challenged by long words, eager sheep, and tight underwear, British President Lionel Blair announced today that the U.K. would decide next summer whether to reverse its current reluctance to install haddock and trout smelting pants in government dignitaries' trousers.

As Mr. Blair spoke at a meeting here, two men wearing fluorescent yellow octopus wigs over dark welding suits clambered into the steel rafters of the auditorium to launch a small inflatable salmon filled with radioactive helium.

They carried banners saying, "My aunty is a whelk" and “Just say no to haddock hats” and scattered similar messages on fishing line onto the crowd below. A spokesman for the group, Fishy Lads Against Pert Panty Yankers, said the protest was intended to launch a "fight back against what my mother did to me with a herring in the cupboard under the stairs when I was a child" by preventing Mr. Blair from doing up his flies.

The protesters refused to abandon their perches in the roof beams, insisting that they wished to make lewd propositions with the aid of stuffed kippers to participants in the annual meeting of the Confederation of British Trouser Pointers, a leading toilet traders’ group.

"I'm not prepared to accept that," said Digby Scroatynebcrank, the head of the Confederation. "I don't give in to guppy-flavoured ultimatums (but they can call me later and see me privately in the clinic)"

Mr. Blair, regarded as an undeclared supporter of haddock power, was forced to address traders in a cramped pair of lederhosen, surrounded by dead conger eels and wearing extra thick oven mitts. "This is going to be a surreal occasion," Mr. Blair slurred. "I'm going to do up my flies if it's the last thing I do."

"Like most fishy issues, what we actually need is an pointless and demented debate, not one conducted by dribbling herring activists and demonstrations to stop people having the freedom to express themselves from the belt down with the fish of their choosing," he said.

The two protesters, identified by FLAPPY as Huw Thirsleberker and Nyls Verhoppenslank, had apparently infiltrated the building with unauthorized turbots, the organizers said.

Their action recalled other demonstrations by pro-fin-sucking and fathers' gusset rights protesters who breached security at the House of the Commons Aquarium and Buckingham Palace Public Toilets armed with live clams and sawn-off skate fins.

The Confederation of British Trouser Pointers acknowledged that security around the president had been compromised, only minutes after an earlier nappy and dab intrusion. Another speaker at the annual gathering was Sir Ian Throstle, the head of London's Metropolitan Flying Squid.

President Blair's speech had been widely expected as the trigger for a new crab paste debate only two years after the British authorities resolved to increase the use of renewable sources such as used-bloomer oil and third-hand yak butter to 10 per cent of the country's needs by 2010 and 20 per cent by 2006. At the same time, Britain's kipper and scraps stations would be gradually phased out by 2014 and then phased back in by 2023.

In Finland, a man reacted by doing rude things to a lobster.

Staring Back Along the Tube

2005-11-28T12:18:00.000-05:00

What feels like a chronic failing is not taking in or living in the moment fully when traveling and visiting amazing places. Maybe this is partly a ‘western disease’ in general? We spend a lot of time planning and looking forward, and then later, looking back, reminiscing, reliving, but sometimes it’s difficult to actually absorb all and appreciate the present while there. (Maybe that’s because the present doesn’t actually exist, ala Johnny from Naked: “but you’re not in it now. you’re not in it now. you’re not in it now….”) Perhaps living as much as one can in the present is what most approaches contentment? Isn’t that what ye olde Zen Buddhist meditation partly relates to? Clearing the mind just in order to be. Not that modern life encourages living for the moment much – “think of the future!”; “you must get organised”; “what did you do this weekend?”; “what are we doing tonight”; “you remember that time when we tarred and feathered a pig on the Yorkshire Dales?”; “what were you doing in that kennel in the dead of last night wearing extra-thick, non-slip oven mitts and carrying a 4-gallon tub of lard?”; etc. etc. But, I digress.

Revisiting sounds and images from the summer jaunt to the Highlands & Islands brought this thought home again. I spend time recording ambient sound, shooting photos, and more rarely, jotting notes whenever I travel & visit new locations. One does these things for artistic reasons of course (and do get absorbed in the recording moment, in fact), but also to make sure the memory is augmented later. And because of the latter (which definitely works (and also feeds future artistic projects)), sometimes appreciating place is reduced while actually there. What I end up doing, what I’ve just done, is stimulating an itch to return to these places once again to get more out of them. Happened also with walking the Southwest Coast Path a couple of years back. Is this illusion? Or is it being drawn back to somewhere you feel you didn’t get enough from; didn’t fully understand or absorb? Bit of both, no doubt. Or just greed? Basically, we never have enough time to do all that we want to do and then we procrastinate and don’t fully utilise the time we do have. Bitch, innit. The flip side is that having a visual and audio record of snippets of the more interesting aspects of life is rewarding, and being transported back in time & space during cold, dank, dark winter evenings is entertaining. But, to quote Martin Phillips of the Chills: “You cannot drive and stare rearview.”

Nuckfutterybutter

2005-11-22T15:37:00.000-05:00

Please stop starting sentences with the word "so" and desist from using the word "heart" as a verb.

Bodyw0rks

2005-11-13T19:50:00.000-05:00

Progress on further birdw0rking. Coupla tracks pretty much completed, if not yet mastered: The Midnight Stint and Front. Not sure the rhythm sections work, but am liking the larger sound and things’re getting tighter. Fishing around on Soundclick has unearthed some decent work by other online musos – there’s a lot of dross out there, but it’s worth digging. Users can shove fave tracks in personalised “radio stations” – am slowly adding to the birdw0rks station on each visit.

Intriguing exhibit just opened at the MOMA: design & safety (visited during mad Friday night freebie crush). A real mixed bag of the amazing, the innovative, the pleasingly artisitic, the banal, the pointless, and the twee. Loved the ‘ParaSite’ – a temporary homeless shelter that hooks up to the output of a building’s heating/air conditioning system to inflate and heat.

Recommended read: Stiff by Mary Roach. Details everything that may happen to your cadaver once you’ve donated yourself to science. Good mix of macabre facts & historical background. The attempted wit doesn’t really come off that well, but it’s a well constructed & an (en)grossing read. Includes a description of a visit to the infamous ‘body farm’ down in Tennessee that investigates decay processes in corpses littered around the countryside (by coincidence, Dr. Driv, colour chemist and textiles prof., was just the week before describing forensics studies down in a similar site in NC). Interesting chapter on heart transplants, organ ‘harvesting’ and debate over where the soul resides that I've just read 'ere.

Move Along Undone

2005-11-09T15:04:00.000-05:00

First new birdw0rks track completed, although it needs mastering properly (which means me learning how to master properly...) Ears can be cast here; w0rdlers included here. Not sure my voice is up to much yet, rust-laden as it is, but there's power in them there strings. Recording generally going well & steady although I'm unsure I'll ever be able to produce anything like a coherant musical statement within and among a particular group of songs.

In hindsight, there's been lyrical influence from the dermatological subsconcious, perhaps? Have spent a couple of days being prodded & poked by various medical professionals, culminating in having a chunk of my arm gouged out in lieu of a test for the dreaded melanoma. Now have a week's nervous wait on the biopsy results. Serious risk is apparently pretty low, but still not exactly fun & games.

Took a view of Edward Burtynsky's Manufactured Landscapes exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum of Art (which I'd shamefully never stuck a neck into before) w/e gone. Some impressive industrial & social shots in there and reminded me of Arthus-Bertrand's aerial shots & the Godfrey Reggio/Philip Glass Qatsi trilogy in concept. Didn't all work and was a bit repetitive in places, but definitely worth a view.

Sequined Heavy-Duty Jiffy Bag

2005-11-03T09:35:00.000-05:00

This is far too long for you to read. Be grateful. The totally derranged first chapter of whateveritis from wheneveritwas, dug up and smelling of humus.

----------------------------------------

Chapter 1
"Sequined Heavy-Duty Jiffy Bag"

The book you have picked up, are about to read part of, and then fling violently with venomous disgust into the waste disposal unit in the kitchen, was written without the use of frontal lobes or rubber underwear. Not a bad achievement really, considering the price of haddock and the dimensions of my bladder problems (currently beyond the realms of modern medical science). While this may or may not surprise you, dear reader, once you have read to the end of this first chapter you will probably feel a bubbling and slightly curdled mixture of feelings heavy on confusion, concern and bewilderment, with a great greasy dollop of itchy-and-unclean on the side somewhere inbetween the back of your head and your toe hair. While it is not in my nature to upset more rational and hard working members of my sister species (well actually it is, but that's beside the point and a whole different family of lawsuits) I feel a strange urge to just let it all out. AND I also have an odd fascination for writing this crud for you to ponder over. My psychologist also suggested that it may be good for my ego, plus give him a chance to get me out of his office for more than five minutes, and for his secretary to get over her aversion to Englishmen in fishnet stockings (on their head), and probably a whole lot of other things that I'll get hints about next time I have an appointment on Planet Earth, and, this sentence is getting a tad too lengthy isn't it, well English language never was my strong point and you were taking far too many breaths anyway don't you know there's an oxygen shortage for chrissake, you're killing my yucca plant you BASTADDD!

The reasons for me filling you in in such an informal manner (oo err Bishop) are much too obtuse to go into while I've got this badger on my head, so I'll plod on, or as Edith Bladderworts once commented to me at the back of the harpoon shed on the six-fifteen to Nuneton "I like a man with fur-lined guppie flaps down his shorts, so meet me on the number thirty-two bus to Bexley Heath on Wednesday for a long, pert, sweaty, bland one dahhhling". I never did know what the shag she was on about most of the time, but she gave bad head, and even worse kidney, or so the vicar told me, no honest doctor, it wasn't me, ahh nevirr tuchhed er honest, it wiz me frendd that ad the genital warts, ahh wuz at ome mindin' the wombat, straighh upp! Ahem. This narrative is being written totally under duress. I didn't want to write anything, let along get out of bed before eleven and have electrodes attached to my parrot. I'm being forced to do this by the monkey that lives in my shoes at weekends (you know, the one I started seeing after that night of injecting window cleaner with Cousin Boxmouth at the family reunion three years ago where we all dug up Great Aunty Frank to get a feel of his plastic comedy breasts). So exCUU-CUHHH-ZZZE me for digressing a little. This is not easy. This is as hard as a bowling ball full of coral droppings dropped by polyps fed on quick-set draft-excluding yam-flavoured jelly dessert. OK?!

Another vodka and tonic in the I.V. please nurse, and quick, I can't see the spots in front of my eyes clearly enough!

Now where was I? Oh yes. Under the table with a well-thumbed copy of last months Whelk Worryers Weekly. This book is a tail of two sheep. In fact they had to share the tail due to government cuts. They also shared a pair of imitation leather antlers and a bicycle clip. I once caught my old stereo system in a bar in Houston trying to slip its CD tray into the quarter slot of a fruit machine. Dirty bastadd. But that's a different story. Actually, that's the whole story because the rest is kept hidden from me by repeated early morning sniffings of the coffee grinder and too much de-icer for breakfast. Either that or I'm mistaken. And if I'm not mistaken then I'm a strange, crazed chimp sexer from Letchworth with a plastic tulip on my head and no sense of time. What?

Colonel Harry von Slappandholdit felt the breeze whistling through the high pressure air conditioning system attached to the left leg of his rubber shorts. The mist from his nether regions was fogging his glasses, but he didn't really mind since he was blind as a bat with a box on its head. He had lost what remained of his sight following excessive childhood masturbation, during an accident involving a hamster, a set of knitting needles, and a pair of false plastic buttocks. His unrelenting quest for perverted pleasure using household appliances and next door's furry pets had finally paid off, and the voices in his head were now much clearer having lost the use of both eyes, a spleen, a pair of edible latex waders, and the hamster's exercise wheel. It also meant that he now had a legitimate excuse for groping his way on his hands and knees through the park to the public lavatories, something he'd dreamed of ever since his arrest and sentence in the late '70s. He could also leave his apartment on weekends without his trousers without fear of retribution or the usual spot fines.

At this particular moment in time he was stood on the edge of a large bowling field trying to fit his left flipper into a riding harness. He was wearing full deep sea diving gear, except for a long, bent cucumber inserted into his mouth where his air hose should have been. The colonel had always insisted that garden fruits and vegetables could provide all the nutrition and stimulation needed to carry out unnatural maritime activities with a bearded woman in the back of a taxi cab, but on this particularly occasion he had merely mistaken the cucumber for a Cuban cigar and dropped his trousers. He was somewhat confused on this day given that his attempt to fish for conga eels was being carried out in a Warwickshire llama farm, approximately 95 miles from the nearest coastline. Never one to flinch in the face of excruciating long odds, or cerebral haemorrhages, his plans remained unaltered despite severe doubts about his whereabouts, his identity, the price of chicken liver, and the uncanny lack of moistness of the ocean around his ankles. The searing heat radiating from his self-igniting jock strap had not helped matters and he was feeling somewhat unconfident about the lasting power of his Freon-filled underwear. The whole situation had simply worsened when vivid images of 300 pound Scandinavian shot putters with bulging varicose arteries dressed in Russian sailor outfits and lurex leder hosen had flashed before him suddenly and without warming. He'd had to attach a steel bucket and six feet of industrial guttering to his buttocks just to contain his fetid drooling and profuse bottom sweating. Still his lower body was threatening to self combust at temperatures that would singe a Teflon-coated aardvark at sixty paces. Feeling desperate and significantly oily beneath the cassock, he made his staggering way towards what he thought was a walk-in fridge-freezer. In reality he stumbled over to an open pit of decaying pigeon droppings, fell head first into the white and green bubbling mess, and gargled himself to death on old fish batter, humming the tune to When the Boat Comes In.

How dare you?! How dare you start this paragraph before me. Some readers are just getting way beyond their station. Way beyond their damp, dank, graffittied bus shelter! Yes, well, I will admit that the above tale was not the most eloquently written. Not the most stylistic piece of fiction ever slapped around the earlobes for interfering with the llama steaks before they were done. Infact, I admit it. It was a pile of incomprehensible tripe that flowed out of the depths of my addled subconscious before I could panic or have time to stem the flow of verbal excrement. A literary fart that slipped out and transformed into a leaky bowel movement before my very snozzer, matron send in the bearded woman from Rectology with the stirrups and a can of Udder Cream! Oops, there, now. I've gone and spilt my glass of yam juice all over the keyboard. That'll teach me to try and do one thing at once.

"Vibro-lips? Vibro-lips?? More like Velcro flaps" he said with a mouthful of shoe leather.

"I was swinging in the breeze. Swinging like old Mrs. Rancidwart's incontinent cushioned ski-pant pockets. Filled to belching with rancid, oily camel excrement, and the amorphous matter that' s left over after all the juices have been stamped out at the annual Shafted Sheep Treading Festival held each month in Upper New Daardvark, Connecticut."

"What are you talking about Danny?" he said.

Danny continued, ignoring him. "The festival ends with the ceremonious bottling of six forty gallon vats of staley-squeezed elk excretions, and the fermented remains of the carpet stains left over from the previous year's Grunt & Armadillo Shagging Fayre..."

"I still haven't the foggiest what you're dribbling on about , oh great spinner of gobbledygook."

"...then, everyone gets drunk on eight pints of Norman's Mindfork Best and sees who can be last to nail Bert's sister's daughter Joanna up the u-bend, pointing skywards, with a prize-loosing marrow. All good, dirty, dusty, musty, smelly, oily, greasy, well-lubed, smear-stained, rubbed-red-raw fun eh?" Danny was beside himself.

"It's time then, wouldn't you say, to get my head out of this climate-controlled trouser press, and to dig out my special antleroid and monk-billed sloppy plant experiment from the back of the fridge?"

"Yes, I would say so."

"You know, I just asked the girl downstairs if I could throstle her pouch with a Northumberland black pudding, and would ya believe ett, she just walked off with this look of utter disdain without even a passing tweak of my lemur."

"Disgraceful. Disappointing."

"Not 'arf."

"I herd it on the grope vein."

Danny is silent and twitching for a second. "Some people are just plain rude" he muses. "Others are planed hard, flat, and smooth, with less body hair than the guppy that I keep down the front of my shorts. Still others are caught with both hands in the jellied eel tank at the aquarium, their trousers 'round the nurse's ankles, and a pair of Stretchwear hotpants on their heads as they dance maniacally around the room with the lights on and the piglets wired up to a 700 amp generator to provide nipple thrustage. These latter people are probably, nine times out of therapy, you and I on expenses and a free day pass from the clinic, forged by a mad Welsh baseball swallower famous for his impression of Florence Nightingusset ('The Lady With The Lumps') from the Freak show organized by my Uncle Alice."

"Now that you put it that way" he sighed, "it's really no wonder that I haven't got a clue what my name is or why I'm holding this self-inflating bloater fish."

"No."
"No?"
"Nuhhh!"
"Nhhh....hh"
"Nh..."
"nh."
"n"

Dogeared Observations

2005-11-01T13:36:00.000-05:00

Sixth Avenue in the west village was a crazy place to be last night, albeit seen through the dangling mouthparts of a giant Ren head. T. excelled with her costume creation (in record speed) & response to us was pretty fantastic overall.

A few realisations during the night though:

1. I fail to be a 'real' photographer in one sense: I'd much rather participate in life on many occassions than simply record it. This isn't news, really. To slot into the classic photographer mold, I think that you need that collector/observer mentality. Personally, I wouldn't swap. The life of the observer/recorder is poorer. On the whole, being in among the craziness of this burst of creativity & expression was superb; the one thing that irked a bit is the (always male) photographers looking merely to collect their images, not interacting at all with their subjects, often rudely getting in yer face, rarely blessed with any social skills, never appreciative of either your being there or indeed finding enjoyment in them being there (that was at least visible). I expect these are the types that more excited about equipment than being creative. They were in the minority, natch, but it was a clear observation.

2. There were some really innovative people abroad, going out on limbs (sometimes severed), thinking in novel ways, and constructing costumes and generally behaving very creatively. This slice of New York is partly what I'm here for, I think. Sadly, they're in the minority because many New Yorkers/Americans/westerners are so obsessed with how others see them and/or their image that they won't make an effort to do anything that sets them apart. I get the feeling that social conformity is increasing. In one way this is fair enough - people want to be accepted, want to fit in. But I still don't think it's healthy when it's so wide spread and persuasive. (T.V. must be to blame for some of this. ) Unhealthy for how society works and unhealthy for individuals - internal conflicts (which we all have) are accentuated when one either isn't allowed or doesn't allow oneself to be true to one's own nature, at least within certain bounds. Is this partly an British ex-pat observation or an age-related one? I'm just very grateful for being able to grow up in a freeer, less conformist, less judgemental social echelon.

3. Attractive, firm-breasted, young women are much more inclined to walk up and hug me when I'm wearing an enormous dog head that obscures my facial features.

Swingin'

2005-10-29T10:40:00.000-04:00

Big thanx to Quaz for getting the new birdw0rks site to me. Now have a decent online template from which to build. Take a look here, even though links etc. need updating. Am always open to suggestions for improving the site, bearing in mind me novice html status, natch.

Have also set up at SoundClick, a nice site for getting toons out there, swapping songwriting & recording tips, and hearing other folks' work.

Overdue for a more meaty online presence moosackwise, birdw0rks. Also a nice opportunity to merge image and sound.

New 16-track studio has arrived & been set up. Superb toy this, although I'm still learning how to drive really. Sound quality improvement very obvious vs. old BR-8. Drum machine & sequencer mean I can compose rhythms properly from the same source; am taking much more time cleaning, compressing, & processing tracks; plus am looking forward to playing with the onboard mastering kit to actually learn how to master properly. New musical tools stimulate new ideas, always, and I'm definitely back in the flow. String fingers getting toughened up once more.

Check out a draft of the results.

Headfnuk

2005-10-18T10:24:00.000-04:00

Whenever I dream that I'm driving, the brakes never work.

Buzzinoggin

2005-10-12T11:22:00.000-04:00

Despite getting laid out by head-swimming changeofseasonviral ugliness, moosikal week continued in fine style with Prokofiev's Romeo & Juliet. Is there a much better piece of music composed? NY Philharmonic were stingy with no encore and could have rearranged their excerpts more effectively, but it continues to be one of my fave orchestral douffas. Sound sound.

Dead Can Dance were on form but lacked the hair-on-end impact of when I first saw them circa early 90s. Maybe both my aging & theirs? Radio City Musical Hall is an awesome place just to walk in, let alone hear dark, swirling music in, and DCD did justice to their back catalogue. Time hasn't dimmed the power of Lisa Gerrard's body-quivering vocals. Amazing range.

He is Vision He is Sound

2005-10-06T14:49:00.000-04:00

Despite my suffering a buzzing head cold (that would be buzzed further by the end of the night with ringing timpanics), T. & I made it to Irving Plaza last night to get a dose of Uncle Bob back with a full band for the first time in yonks. A very different experience to the last couple of solo shows over the past few years, although song selection somewhat similar in places. Bob is definitely fitter, louder, and on form in his mid 40s. Puts younger psueds, posers, and deriviates in the field of noise to shame. While the sound mix was a bit murky at times (an overpowering bass muddied the finer guitar twists & turns in places early on), the power and speed of most of the set was stonking. What surprised me a little was how strongly the new work came through. Body of Song, the new long player, is a nice mix of things and when 'Circles' and 'Paralyzed' came in after a few Sugar classics on the night, their crispness, freshness, and raw emotive energy hit home nicely. Husker Du classics were wheeled out as crowd pleasers, starting with the slower, but excellently grinding 'Hardly Getting Over It' and heading to an encore that included a cracking rendition of 'Makes No Sense at All'. (T. had actually spotted a pre-gig Bob walking from Union Square a few hours previous and shouted a hello without response. "Walking around with your head in the clouds - it makes no sense at all" would have been what I would have sung to his departing back...he has a sense of humour, right?)

The Philharmonic's Prokofiev Romeo & Julient excerpts tonight and then Dead Can Dance at Radio City on Saturday continue our moosikal earlovefest for the week.

In and out of a darkened room

2005-10-04T16:09:00.000-04:00

September and October are fab months to be in NYC. The weather cools, the sunlight is still bright, and it’s the perfect time of year for spinning around the edges of the Manhattan isle on the wheels, running through Le Park Central, al fresco dining in the last stretch of long evenings, or just sauntering through the grid. Fall film, moosak, performance, and museum schedules kick off with a culltchahhrule blitz, and yer spoiled for choice for artistic stimulation, and the baseball season comes to it’s cracking climax. I took full advantage of $5 tickets to visit the Stadium in da Bronx for almost a full week of the final Yanks homestand of the regular season in late September. Every game a one-run stonker. An excessive number of games (5 in 7 days at one point), but it’s a long off season.

A recent paternal visit shoved T. & I to dip into a few cultural delights that are on the always-there list. E.g. a visually & audibly flashy presentation of La Boheme at the Met, the surprisingly good Transit Museum in Brooklyn, interesting, ectoplasm-fueled turn of the centuary photos at the other Met, the wonderful get yer hands dirty toys at the Museum of the Moving Image in Long Island City Queens (try the film audio dubbing booth for laughs if you ever visit – oh so very easy to abuse to amusing effect), finally catching the excellent Broken Flowers, and the Philharmonic's Mahler 1 at the Lincoln Center. A progressive hop around fave Manhattan eateries & watering holes included in the parental tour, natch.

Oh, and the furrybeast has fall madness (similar to summer madness in manifestation). Galloping loon...

NewMao

2005-09-05T10:58:00.000-04:00

Beast is better, glad to say, but clearly still derranged :D
Well, it needs to be.

Finally have new, replacement wheels.
New wheels. New speed.

Mao

2005-08-29T00:01:00.000-04:00

This little beastie scampered into our lives just 6 days ago. A stray rescued by the ASPCA and picked up by T. at an open house adopt-a-thon down in Prospect Park. Cue a lively, investigative, little, black furthang running around the apartment, purring loudly, if a little snottily, chasing string and blind cords, and waking us up at 4 or 5 AM with a paw in the cheek.

On Wednesday, the snottyness got worse, breathing more constricted, and poor MiniMao threw up a couple of times. His condition grew worse over the next two days and after a relatively prolonged battle to get to see our local vet, he was admitted in pet hospital on Saturday morning. Fears of a possibly-fatal virus, quaranteen, and the poor sod in an isolated cage with an IV in what we can only assume to be his shaved kitten leg. and a stressful start to the weekend. A call today suggests things aren't as bad as they first seemed, he's likely to have a feline immune deficiency (test results pending), and touching wood with a firm grip, he's out of the woods.

Amazing that after just 5 days of having this little, characterful beast in the home just how empty the place is without him already, how heartbreaking it is to see a cat so young is such obvious distress, and the attachment one experiences that's so instant when you find a pet with a personality that fits just right. Can't wait to have Mao back in the fold and back on form, chewing your laces, putting up with being worn as a hat, jamming his head in your water glass at dawn, etc. etc. T. first thought of getting a cat to distract her from her own on-going injury; having Mao in the kitty ER didn't really do the trick, but such goes life.

Eyethrobber

2005-08-16T12:06:00.000-04:00

Currently messing with a 'directionless' image processing, erm, process. Starting with an image and no fixed route to an endpoint, or preconceived result to aim for. I use this approach putting sound together sometimes, less so before with images. It's a trial and error, more pure experimentation approach that can be very hit or miss. A lot ends up as unusable drivvel. Some is decent. Occassionally you end up with something that you can't remember how you got to but you like a lot. It's freeing and more absorbing sometimes, but eats more time. Plus, unless you rigerously document how you've got from A to B (and who can be arsed?), you can't recreate cumulative effects, but that's part of the fun.

Rewatched Fellini's La Dolche Vita over the weekend - took advantage of the NYC storm to get absorbed in it. It's looonnnng, disjointed, and can be a challenge at times, but it's one of those flicks that keeps on giving. I was surprised at a few true comic moments embedded in the style and flow. A great journey through the pointlessness of New Age Italian celebrity wanderings, a great sketch of one side of Roma, inlcudes nice comment on the leechlike scamperings of the media (the ratlike paparazzi are hilarious), and the sublime composition of some shots remind why Fellini is on his pedestal. Can see influence on the likes of Bergman, Allen, & Leigh from this, definitely.

A Lit Breakfast

2005-08-11T09:50:00.000-04:00

Anyone else been blog spammed? First for me - a 'reader's comment' along the lines of "hi, I was just passing through and found your site. don't have too much fun now. check out my own site. I'm interested in really cheap vacations to Bermuda" etc.
Tossers.

Inbetween covering my head with roughage, effervescing, inflating cartelagenous beasts, getting generally sharkelated, and animating cake heads in flickrland.

Getting a dose of the ball parks this week.

T. finally getting some mobility & a 2nd dr.'s opinion is the exact opposite of the "operate now - give me your money" first. Surprise surprise. Good to see her stretching her legs on a bike machine for the first time in a coupla months.

And bloody 'ell, my cousin's up the duff. Congrats Vicks & And!

Easy On

2005-08-07T18:12:00.000-04:00

Odd, sometimes, where one's musical inspiration comes from:

what started off Wedding Presentish ended up as major silliness...

One of the benefits of returning to live in NYC is regular live footay down the pub. The occassional disadvantage is a 12 noon kick off back home translating into a 7 AM one here stateside (pity the poor buggers sat in west coast time zones). Gawd bless McCormacks on 27th Street for opening up and showing Ldddzz-Mi'a-wawl this morning though. Was the first time for many a year that I've watched the Community nee Charity Shield n'all. Blearly-eyed, but sound way to start a Sundee, innit.

Night before T & I wandered up into Spanish Harlem to visit an ex-neighbour in her new flat on 108th Street. We sat testing and tasting sharks on her excellent rooftop patio. Shots were heard part way through the evening - laffed off by T & our host as fireworks. Walking back south down 1st Ave. at midnight police were swarming over the nearby housing project. A little way further down I looked into a Chinese takeaway on the opposite side of the street: inside and infront of the serving counter was a wall of bullet-proof glass, a massive and heavily locked, steel security door, and a small D-shaped serving hatch cut in the glass. I'd seen this before while living in Long Island City a while back: the local offie to be specific (the proprietor of which, a middle-aged Chinese man, had a viscious-looking scar across his face cut from ear to chin...). Continuing on we passed a fried chicken joint and, indeed, a liquor store. All three in a row had exactly the same bullet-proof glass, door, hatch set-up. There's a reason for it and a reason I'm glad I don't live north of 96th Street. Where serving staff in shops are in real fear of being killed on a daily basis, you know it's grim. But that's New York City isn't it: the neighbourhood vibe often changes within a block. Poverty and violence dwells a stone's throw away from affluence (or in our case a stone's throw away from somewhere not particuarly affluent, but certainly a lot safer). And when you pass through these places and are much more aware of personal safety, it also makes you think about New York's and America's major social mistakes. Destroying communities, reolcating low-income people in the name of gentrification, shoving up badly-designed housing projects to house the dislocated, spacially segregating by economic status which essentially means race. That was one of the most visual culture shocks of moving over to the US (to central Texas in my case, the first time - the segragation is more severe where there's more space available, it seems - and if liberal NYC is like it is, you can imagine what the Bush-states are like...). In New York, there are positives about some of the remaining poorer neighbourhoods: there is still community, sometimes more cohesively than elsewhere. Folk make their own entertainment e.g. sat on the stoops and sidewalks playing cards, shooting the breeze, and treating the city as their livingroom. That aspect's good to see and generally you'll get a friendly response if you're seen around regularly. But, you get the real impression that the likes of Spanish Harlem are very much annexed. In American terms, the lack of major food chains and shops (apart from the likes of White Castle and KFC), lack of local investment (private and public) speaks volumes, at least in the area we skimmed through last night.

Tent Tickles

2005-08-03T12:42:00.000-04:00

Radomly, eclectically, today I have been taken here, here, here, and here.

Toss my salad!

Fingerfling

2005-07-30T19:10:00.000-04:00

A somewhat crappy, slung together, loose-trousered string fling laid down as a gauntlet for the Tom Kid to tweak, if the man fancies. A chance to see it build in moosikal bricks and the first slice of pie here

Also, on the birw0rking front, a long-overdue remix, tweak, & post for the Sam-inspired ditty, Looking Out.
A sticky afternoon with bruised fingers...

New Bob

2005-07-28T12:36:00.000-04:00

Rarer now that it used to be, natch, but still occassionally these days musical releases demand that I dig out & stick on me selkieyebirdarsegoggles, surgically implant speakers directly into the aural synapses, and leap around the room for moosikal joy like a certifiable, strategically-shaved, contactgelled, and consquently electrocuted polecat.

Uncle Bob's Body of Song fits the bill.

Eye on Oirelund

2005-07-28T12:28:00.000-04:00

More reflections on Dublin...

The city is always one of those places I often hanker to return to, but this most recent visit has reminded me that I don’t actually want to linger that long when there. It’s like a quick, satisfying fix of something you want regularly, but not often. I’m sure with broader exploration that opinion may change, but for the city centre, a short, sharp blast of finest Grinness, a wander along the Liffey, a deep inhale of the hops in the air from St. James’ Gate, that does the trick and I’m ready for the off again.

There’s definitely a gentrification that strikes you visually compared to the Dublin of say, fifteen years ago. Objective 1 cash has been spent and invested pretty wisely. The streets have more urgency and speed, buildings, shops, and pubs are generally more tourist-friendly chic and smart, the poverty has been further nudged to the suburbs and off the beaten track. While the rich vs. poor contrast is a fair way from what can be found in NYC, it’s still in evidence in Ireland’s capital and easy to stumble across. The building below, just off of the river and under half an our from O’Connell Street, is a good example - half derelict and shelled; half lived in, decrepit, and grim.

The benefit for the visitor is that Dublin is a more easy-on-the-eye, convenient, clean place to come to. The downside is that some of the character has been erased, it doesn't have the large-city-with-a-small-town-feel that it once possessed. Pros and cons though, eh?

One recommendation is to wander the Trinity College campus, home of the Book of Kells and film set for the likes of Educating Rita, late at night. The gentle lighting, soft curve of metalled pathways, looming statues, and sense of stepping back in time is most poignant at the midnight hour.

"Mummy, what's the opposite of hair?"

2005-07-27T18:22:00.000-04:00

An infinite number of nuggets here!

Flickrintheflesh

2005-07-23T17:32:00.000-04:00

Summer isn’t conducive to putting words to screen for me – too much open air & run/pedal around in the warmth to spend further time infront of a keyboard, generally. A hazy, lazy afternoon tapping into the Bryant Park freebie wireless in the shade of the Center for the Humanities on 42nd Street means I’ve at least pointed myself this way briefly. There’s copious brain leavings (phrase copyright Selkie) for me to deposit regarding the trip to Scotchshire (not to mention just how many gigs of photos to wade through?) and recent nyc fun, the meat of which I’ll just have to catch up on in time. The days will get shorter well before I’m ready for them to, after all.

Things tend to clump and aggregate in life although it may be pure coinkerdink that over the past week or two I’ve met in person a few significant bods known previously only from online discourse. Flickr, I’m sure, is different from other online communities (footie aside) in that the number of like minds is much higher and the chances of meeting reasonably socially-rounded folk is greater than elsewhere. Generally, I have little interest in finding community in cyblerland, but the mixture of the above, the impact of and passion for the digital image, and a good slice of good luck no doubt, means that I’ve ended up touching bases with some superb individuals.

First off was Brendadada in Edinburgh – someone who’s good humour, good slice of cynicism, and overall zest for life is mirrored in her personal, real world self by her 2D online wordsmith self. I suspect that I was somewhat typically birds and probably slightly abrasive when with her, but she took all in her stride. She’s complex, doesn’t take life too seriously, has boundless energy, and was a joy to finally meet. More briefly, we also spent a few hours with Shooz, who’s probably a bit more reserved in demeanour that I’d expected, but another sure-fire lively mind and someone with a real photographic skill. The fact that she’s landed her very own photo exhibition there in Glasgee is superb news and summat that she no doubt deserves. Distance is the bitch about meeting people in this way – I’d happily trot out for a quick bevy with these people on a regular basis to get to know them properly, but geography deems otherwise.

That sentiment goes doubly for Sarah (Knautia) & Vik (BingoLittle) who came through New York on their jollies and whom I sort of met up by flickr chance, although nortier Knautia & I had yapped online at each other a fair bit. A drunken night in NYC’s Ginger Man, a lot of laughs, and total soul mate comfort and ease being with ‘em means I missed them before they’d even gone. Sarrh & I share a sense of ridiculous and stewpidity with the camera lens, I think, that means I’d never get bored in her company and given the opportunity, would lead to childlike amusement to an ugly degree. We’ll doubtless be meeting up when next over in Blighty. (T. had fun with them too, to the point of gin-inebriation, natch…)

Lastly, I’d neglected making it to various NYC flickrite events during work mayhem and subsequent travels. A quick Friday afternoon slink out of responsibility meant I spent a few hours at Belmont Park racetrack on Long Island with Ingrid (other flickr nyarkers flaked, as it turned out). Her initial shock that I wasn’t a woman (which is just peach), despite briefly meeting me before, didn’t stop us from having a blast betting (and mostly losing, for my part) single dollars like completely clueless novices. Ingrid has a perfect mix of humour, bitterness, antisocial tendencies, and intelligence that makes her excellent company (and if I dare say, not typically American). If the rest of the NYC crowd are cut from a similar cloth, I predict they’ll be equally entertaining.

I think my screen’s about to melt….

I Don't Fancy His Much

2005-07-17T09:18:00.000-04:00

Dublin (or more specifically, Temple Bar) on a Satdee night has changed a little since I was last privvy to the Grinness-fueled fest. Stag and hen night swarms, mainly the latter, from the likes of Southport, Guilford, and Burnley dressed in cliched themes (the nurses; the prom queens; the hockey team (ughhhhh...); and of course, the cheerleaders) drunkenly stagger from pub to pub getting progressively more bladdered, louder, and more disheviled (in that order). The bride or groom to be is identified by a particuarly fetching/embarrassing piece of headgear or visible underwear and most groups wear labels to let you know who each of them are, sort of ala Spice Girls parlance: "Pouty Girl"; "Bouncy Belinda"; "Sam the Swallower"; "The Short Fat Ugly One"; etc. What's interesting is the mixture of responses to the whole event within each group: the obvious ring-leader who's idea it was, all loud, in-yer-face exhuberant, flip-top-head; the 'nahahhahhahhahhha" I don't fancy yours much couple of revellers that have tagged along happily, but would be doing the same in Cleethorpes on a Saturday night anyway, only in slightly less (only slightly, mind) ridiculous clothing; the lone "doing-this-only-cus-it's-me-mate", "hate people staring at me in this St. Trinian's Uniform 'cus it shows off my enormous thighs", not-quite-into-it tagger on; and the pre-bride herself, normally wearing a drunker, more detached serenity, happily being shepherded by the gals around her, and taking whatever henious hazing is coming her way from her chosen gaggle. It is actually fun & interesting to see all this spilling onto and out of the streets of Dublin, but it's not summat you'd want on the doorstep (particurly when the later, multicoloured alcopop vomm starts to flow...)

Two places to find refuge include the Stag's Head, still a paragon of Grinness drinking, tucked seedily away down a seedy alley in a seedy corner off of Dame Street where the pint is as stout as it gets and the clientelle mixed and relaxed under the brass and stained glass. Always a pub I try and slink through while in town.

The other is the Brazen Head, a nice hike down the Liffey on Bridge Street. Not what it once was in terms of small-town welcome or atmosphere, but it claims to be the oldest tavern in Dublin and just has a great staging inn look to it. Worth a look at least once.

Working Backwards

2005-06-25T23:32:00.000-04:00

Like stepping out into a hot, damp, humid dog’s mouth, Manhattan today.

A trip to Coney Island to dip into minor league ball of the Cyclones. Minor league games are always worth the price of admission for the between-innings humliat-a-thons. Hapless members of the crowd dragged out, made to run around blindfold, get poked by sticks, chase teasing cheerleaders, answer daft questions, speed-eat lard pie, that kinda thing. These people never seem to make the most of their moment. For the blindfolded run at a cheerleader, I would have deliberately run as fast as I could out to rightfield, arms-a-flailing, screaming, to run headfirst into the homerun wall, beating it with my fists, yelling "will it never end? will it never end?" rather than the confused, gentle, disinterested amble of our man of the night...All good fun though, and in the name of winning a sponsor’s “special prize” for the price of repeatedly mentioning the sponsor’s name. The game itself was surprisingly entertaining, complete with fielding bloops and whiffs, and 8000 Brooklynites not only showed up, but stayed until the final pitch (and, indeed, beyond, for the rather limp fireworks display). Great location, just off the promenade reeking of ocean waters, to watch a ball game on a balmy Friday night. We’ll be back.

I’m not going to rant about a stolen bike – the message is clear enough elsewhere. The part-reason for loss was hearing David Sedaris, a clever, witty little git, in the flesh in an achingly-packed Strand bookshop. His new, more profane and vicious prose is well up there if what he read is anything to go by. Could barely see the bloke through the crush, but glimpses hint that he’s uglier than his press photos suggest – why society now deems it vital that we see author’s faces anyway is a mystery to me – cover photos’re a waste of ink imho (but then, here’s me tripping off to see these people read live, so hypocrite I be.)

The last long, joyful journey on the lost vehicle was all the way along and across the East River to Prospect Park to catch the Met opera. Not being much of an opera fan, I was surprisingly impressed by the performance, maybe spiced by the outdoor, summer evening setting. Grand stuff and amazing just how well the acoustics were delivered. The ride back, under full, fat moon, was a keeper, culminating in crossing a twinkling Brooklyn Bridge and speeding back up the river to Yorkville beside swirling waters and sparkling metropolis. Smar’ innit.

Musically, things are in remission, but summer and the summercity never did stimulate the moosak glands that much. Few ideas are brewing and motivation to complete the latest ‘long-player’ will gradually build. Anyroad, ambient sound is being collected prolifically again thanx to a replacement machine from Chumplick.

birdw0rking again

2005-06-19T19:20:00.000-04:00

I know, I know, neglected birdw0rdspace, but hell, spring sprang, summer sneaking in, and who wants to spend hours infront of a screen when there’s frolics to be had in stretched-out evenings? (Then again, Brendadadadadada told me off and demanded birds verbiage, so a token offering :)

I stand (OK, sit) amazed at the propensity of freebie outdoor events going on here in nyaark this summer. Al fresco music all over the shop, free flicks, mad actors wandering across Central Park performing Shakespeare, and festivals a go-go. Just trying to map out what’s where when and what to squeeze in is a challenge. While the crowds often must be fought, much of what’s going on is worth that small hassle. Will snap & leave notes on what we get along to, assuming I’m not too distracted.

One recent cultural highlight has to be the live performance by the Philip Glass Ensemble of Powaqqatsi – a screening of the film to their performance added so much to both. The way both the music and images build, ebb, flow, and reach harmony is awesome. I definitely didn’t get that that strongly when watching the movie alone.

Another, er, ‘cultural’ event, was the arrival of Ingerlund stateside for the first time in yonks. A trip to Chicago, to be surrounded by Stateside Whites fans, was ace in particular.

Latest Flickr revelation is the GeoTagging feature: spatially referencing photos to where they were taken via Googlemap. A great little toy and ‘tis fun to see who you rub shuttershoulders with geographically.

On the birdw0rks front, a somewhat-forced attempted at ambient repetitiveness squeezed out of my string fingers not too long ago.

Caffeinated Reflection

2005-04-09T21:35:00.000-04:00

I love snapping reflections in coffee. Something about that dark, oily surface and the hint of another world lurking within the caffeinated opaqueness.

After much procrastination, the two-wheeled birdsmobile is fully juiced, tuned, and bouncing on its new lower bracket. Oh what a difference it makes. I bombed around the periphery of the island via the superb riverside paths (on the east south; west past the Battery Park hoards; north on the west) like a greasedgit in the brilliant Manhattan afternoon. Watched the tourists and rigging for a bit in South Street Seaport, took my time on the west side north of the seventies (one of my fave parts of NYC), and felt fully sprung.

First visit to the Bronx Bombers tomorrow. Definitely Spring!

Whichever Way the Wind Blows

2005-04-08T16:08:00.000-04:00

I witnessed a City Discustoid Moment walking down Morningside Drive yesterday evening. Youngish bloke about 20 m infront of me decided to piss up against the wall of Morningside Park, but did so without bothering to stop walking. Nonchalantly spraying urine to his side and then wiping his hands down his side when he got to the light. Ughhhhhhh. Someone hose him down from a fire hydrant, please.

Imagerly (nice word), I've been inverting my world a little this week. Like some of the results. Haven't inverted much else....

Moosakkerlie (nice wordler), I've gone a bit ambient and heavily delayed. Nothing digitally deposited yet, mind.

With the spring clocks sprung, I'm off out into the real world more & more. Looking forward to both the 5-boro bike tour (thanks, JDB!) & the Great Saunter coming up soon. Gimmie baseball, n'all.

Greenbirds

2005-04-03T01:24:00.000-05:00

Things have definitely gone a bit green...(Hell, 'tis springtime, clocks just turned, after all innit.)

Manhattan in the moist mist of a marine monsoon. Dampens (figuratively, literally, and then figuratively again) the weekend wanderlust.

Continuing on with the Ming-Liang Tsai mini-fest: Vive L'Amour. Another great meditation; bit more work and not with the impact of What Time Is It There, but worth the slow pace and gentle unfolding. Definitely a few themes shared with WTIIT and Goodbye Dragon Inn. Director certainly knows how to extract some intense and focused performances from the cast. Final in-park sobbing scene quite extraordinary.

Musical pores somewhat blocked and dispondent recently. Happens. A mild abandonment.

Vowell Movement

2005-04-01T17:06:00.000-05:00

She looked like it was a necessary evile decended upon her by the publishing powers that be, but the dry wit shon through and was a fun 20 minutes listening to Sarah Vowell reading herself at Astor Place. "My life is so much boring now that I'm a writer". Yeah, I bet....

A few minidiscs clattered out from under an electronic stone last night which has led to the resurfacing of the Birdw0rks Radio Show - a faux slice of madness & music from across the years mixed together with a tin cup and a pair of waders last year. Definitely a product of spending too many late nights listening to Blue Jam in the dark, but I have a particular fondness for the product. There are a couple more, slightly less deranged, lurking in the recent pseduobirdsdeejay archies n'all...

The Other End of Imagination

2005-03-27T12:05:00.000-05:00

The sky opened up after a day of gray and burst forth the light.
Hello halo! (A sister to the loper?)

"He thought big and they called it phallic.
They didn't know he was panoramic...."
Flushing delights (innit).
Flushing Meadow is a weird World's Fair graveyard. The NYC model in the Queens Museum of Art, a long overdue visit, well worth the long 7 slog out there.

My lens is sore....

Progress

2005-03-13T01:47:00.000-05:00

OK, three things:

1. "What time is it there". Weekend viewing. For starters, the DP and whoever lit this flick, need awards. Beautifully photographed & in the main, wonderful light play. Rare for ME to say this, but how refreshing is a film without score? Really adds to this. Content? It's about grief. About love. About connection. About *time*. And the relation between time and the above. Really innovative. Quite weird. But weird in a very gentle way. A wonderful trip into a mind.

2. Tim Hawkinson is my newly aquired art hero. What a creative mind. What pure vision. What a mix of wonderfully contrasting messages through his work. The retro collection at the Whitney just blew me away. So many good things I didn't know which way to turn. Definitely a return is needed already. And the Uberorgan on 56th Street & Madison is wild. (Once more, accosted for photographing by jobsworthy, but more of that on birdw0rks Flickr in a while...) Where to start with the main exhibit at the Whitney...? The toothpaste and human hair clocks. The sonic, bamboo, room-filling, figure-rich percussion. The tyre monster. The fractal hands. The skin unseen and seen. The inflatble self portrait and chicken suspended from the roof. The signature machine. The hydraulic printout face animation. The interaction between the natural, mechanical, visual, and audible. Too much. Too wild. Too good. All linked by extention cords fashioned, at intervals, into knitted shapes. This man earns his crust.

3. A new camera, a new photophase. The above represents one of my faves re. own photographs. Why? Not 100% sure yet. It's simple. It's clean, It feels alive. It elicits some kind of emotive response that I can't put in words. It's full of movement. It's somewhat abstract. It expresses something that I can't express via another medium. Will take a while to work out what that is, natch. Took a while to capture. And yet, was born from impulse. Music composition, at its best for me, is normally exactly the same. There are still deeper reaches of the mind in which to burrow down into, eh? Obviously. This is one reason, exactly, why life will never be boring. Don't you agree?

Arse Tick

2005-03-09T19:36:00.000-05:00

The truth will out
And me will too
It's all a myth
And those books you read are just munky food
Sanity is a beach hut in a corn field
A fat waif in leather troos
Yuz all fookers
And arl tekk yuz awwl on

But don't take it out on the pillows
And is hat tidying part of the deal?
See...
I was born in a barn, me
And that's why I always leave it open to you
Or maybe I'm just a sloth in sheep's clothing
Or a gorged tick in an evening dress

Altogether Gone or Loony

2005-03-06T11:23:00.000-05:00

"when you naked so shiver in the drizzle

look at clothes by your feet and think 'oh yes, warm' then eat them by mistake

"when you dream be dream, but only of a gloomy lobtoast

"when you park so wrong ee headlights smash bumper breaky shuttle bang bang and bang like fucking pinball

"and when your west no longer be west of your east but above it and mock you like bad candle jack: 'oh ha, you dim muddle bum' and your north-south be altogether gone or loony

"then ooo welcome
ahhh ooo mug welcome.."

Chris Morris

Three One

2005-02-28T22:52:00.000-05:00

A day of reconciliations...?
Seem to have come in a three, like good Lahndahn buses.

Not sure that one of them bothered stopping: stuck its blinker on, I stuck me arm out, driver waved me on board, but seems to have put his foot down and trundled past anyway. Think the top deck might have been empty.

Second was a slow mover, never really left the bus stop. Pretty easy to get on and off and on again. Nice to take the regular seat by the back though. Views good through the windees.

Third was a special from far away. Not on its regular route. I knew it was coming even though I didn't know it was coming. This one came in a dream first. Weird to be dreaming of buses at all, innit. It'll pass this way again, undoubtedly. Maybe a bit unsteady on its wheels, but makes for a more exciting journey. Makes request stops only. I haven't rung that bell in a long while.

Gone Zo

2005-02-28T12:20:00.000-05:00

HST divorcing his head from his body sinks in. As the helium-sucking Quazeh correctly states, the departure of Peely and now Dr. Gonzo removes a good chunk of our collective cultural foundation in the same few months. Mixed feelings about the latter dying by his own rules aswell as living by them and then leaving his poor sod of a son to clear up the perforated corpse. But, I guess in that state your as introverted as one can get, eh? Ta to Mr. P. for pointing us towards various obits & Steadman ramblings anyroad. (Uncle Bob said it: "sacrifice/let there be peace")

I rarely get in a photogasmic state, but yesterday in the moody light of midtown I was totally eye-smacked looking up and long. knacked neck and shutter finger sore by the end of it. while I luurve the 'natural' world, Manhattan feeds my head.

Musically, the retching continues. once seeds plant, it's all I can do to try and prevent spillage. so, open the sonic pyloric valve and up comes chord change. I rarely make myself dance as such while recording, but Drift Stones led me that way in a whirl of sweat this afternoon. It's a piece of shite really, but man is it fun to play. I broke strings and just plodded on, atonal dirge be damned. leaping around with bleeding fingers like a nutter. Let it all out, baby. More I look at Silverstar's Scream, the more I just love it. easy to spit out a response in sound, although the lyric's well open to misinterpretation, even by me. The platter is flipped for Nature Resonates. all 3 flickr influenced.

Tigers

2005-02-20T22:19:00.000-05:00

Image and text unrelated apart from they come from the recesses of birdmind...(Has been a long time since I've produced an image and said: "wow, where did THAT come from" though).

The below part of summat found in the musty digital attic. Extract from 'A Short Trip To The U-Bend of My Mind" circa birdwhenever:

"Hidden evidence under the fig tree
Points to the pervert in your bathroom cabinet.
You can't hide your cufflinks in the toaster,
And don't trust that man who comes to your door with a bowl on his head who says heâ's your sister.
You'll catch you death of cold with that ripped butterfly net.
And then locusts will eat your stereo speakers.
And wild buffalo will stampede through your living room looking for truffles.
And then you'll be in half a mind to wear lycra fishing socks as protection.
And the other half of your mind will take a vacation to Hawaii without you, and leave you a sink full of washing up behind.
And before you know it, thereâll be a colony of Algerian nuns living in your basement, stealing sticks of butter out of your filing cabinet, and shaving your dog so that he looks like a dreadlock wig.
And all the other dogs will laugh at him and chase car tyres around your hall way til all hours.
And you'll never sleep well.
And youâll start taking large amounts of cheese to work with you, until youâre arrested, committed, and made to lie in this bed next to mine."

Clearly haven't progressed much mentally, then...

Eat Yer Shirt Off

2005-02-14T00:23:00.000-05:00

Everyone & their seeing-eye-camera dog out in Central Park as predictable. One can't resist though, despite the whordes. Orange overkill really, but a visual spectacle for sure. (I did spend half my time looking up at fire escapes on the way there, but that's obtuse me.) One wonders about the cost (and the total bleeden worth of photographic equipment in the park at one time today...). Difficult to capture anything that really does justice to the whole venture. Those with large, penile-extension lenses and aircraft will have the advantage. I reverted to type and lay down in the soil, as you can see. Light was suitably accommodating.

The musical leakage continues. Have indulged in something of an experiment of concentrating in on images courtesy of the Flickr bods (not that I've asked anyone...) Has resulted in more possession and sound has flowed from my buzzing musical mind faster than I can mop it up. It's really been one, simple idea at a time, but them melodies and the essence of sound for each refuse to go away during The Moment. It's literally been a case of rushing home to capture the feel and content before it escapes. A very real fear, that escape is. I know from bitter experience that once gone is often lost forever. Even a matter of minutes can cause heartbreak.

What others think of the results here is another thing. What the lyrical content means may take a while for me to decifer too. Members of my new virtual chosen family (Sealie, Mawper, Ian, & Milkgirl, I'm looking at you) have driven and continue to drive my creative wave in new & unexpected ways. The Relative Slump over the past 1/2 year is nowt but an ugly echo now and my gratitude for your part in the current birdim/explosion knows no limit. Selks & I have spoken of word-musak collaboration which excites me to distraction. Let's hope we find the focus it deserves.

Shoulders completely forked from too much studio & laptop time. Heal me, damnit!

It's too it's too it's too obvious

2005-02-11T02:28:00.000-05:00

Once in a very long while one truly channels something. You lose control. You become the cliched vessel. Time is absent. There isn't enough time. There's too much time. Letting it out, whatever "it" is, is merely a process of unscrewing the cap. Releasing the pressure and pointing in the right direction. Sometimes music flows from a part of the mind that is not located in the head. This happened tonight. I didn't eat. I hardly breathed. My entire being was flooded and spilled over. Time was absent. And what triggered this was an image. A photograph. A face, for god's sake. But it's more than that. It's completely abstract. I am spent. And who the hell left this song here and where in buggery did it come from?

Suck from the Box

2005-02-10T12:24:00.000-05:00

life gets in from the box
seen from the box
the juice from the box
kids suck life
kid get suck from the box
drink
bruce lee
life kid suck from the box
drink from the box
the juice kicks up
life kid suck from the box
drink
yeeaaaaaaaahhhhh
bruce lee

(Underworld)

Flat Out on 57th Street

2005-02-07T13:00:00.000-05:00

Manhattan has gone crisp and lit by gods.
Ye gods.
Compelled just to wander around like a gauping pavement loon staring up at the reflectives.
Ended up walking 100 blocks or more before I knew it yesterday.
Snap happy munky.

One of the joys of internet life is drive-by jingle making. Churn out a quick, stewpid song, knock on the door, leave it on the doormat, and run away. The Bunchofpants radio jingle was not meant for utility, just to induce moment-of-stress-relieving grin. Tune to her little corner of the radio play pen a week Wednesday 8-10 PM EST, 'cus the nutter just might play it :)

Moosakily, this week I are mostly going over Tomohawk Kid's beats n pieces to see if Ican construct something lucid ontop. I'm also recruiting other Flickroids and Flickrettes to contribute to this global cross-pollination as Ian aptly puts it. So, if you're reading this and you want in....

I keep brushing brains with My Kind of People on Flickr. Amazes me really. This week, megamuse Selkie has clearly shown that she not only already lives inside my own mind, but she's set up a little fort out of the sofa in there from which to jump out at passing mammals. There's also talk of a NYC Flickr debauch soon, which could be interesting...

Fretless

2005-02-02T20:39:00.000-05:00

Fretless, indeed.

A week or two dumping my mind onto digital music tracks, stretching that musical muscle intensively again, coupled with a photo binge stimulated by the blossoming flickrthang (see below) has left me somewhat spent. I've spent wayyy too long overlaying, bouncing, tweaking, mixing, and trying to mold the rough clay into song. As often happens, you're spat out the other end like so much moosakical flotsum. Wrung out and a tad hollow. And, the worst part, totally unconvinced that the effort has produced anything that either says anything or moves anyone anywhere. Time away always heals that rift to some degree; how much only recovery will tell. For anyone interested, drafts of but some of the new sound are here and here. I warn you though...(The few of you that sent me positive words about these samples are much lovedd - you know who you are.)

Working life gets in the way, as ever. But means-to-an-end means-to-an-end means-to-an-end: the usual mantra. Fnucknuttery doesn't help though, does it?

birdw0rks related: Bunchofpants, gawdblesser, a flickrette of the highest order had planned on playing That Daft Song tonight on air on her Duke college radio station show. I had to feel for her. Having tuned in, RIGHT at the right moment, as it happened, the poor woman sounded to be on the edge of tears as technical beasties were ruining her day. so, if you know her, send her M&Ms, send her tulips, anything, 'cus she had a rough hour or so there by the sound of it.

The Flickr addiction has definitely kicked in . I'm not one for spending long on any web community sites really, but Flickrland is definitely a different beast. Made, essentially by the varied and creative and lively people inhabiting it's landscape. Most splendid overall, and a real steep learning curve in terms of improving my limited photography skills. Four Flickrheads need special mention: Tomohawk's Kid, who I've defintely got shared musical grounding with aswell as visual tastes; the warped sisters: Emdot and Awfulsara, both of which are as absolutely soulmate as it gets based on the limited data cyber interaction allows (and bizarrely, both living in the same street in CA - unbeknownst to me until v. recently), and ArtAsciiPaul, a mad Brit who does the same bitter-and-twisted-with-humour that my genes force me into. Looking at any of those 4's images online will never disappoint and always amuse, but its the personalities that keep you going back. And there are many more faves, of course.

THE FLICKR SONG

2005-01-26T09:49:00.000-05:00

THE FLICKR SONG

This musical piece of birdw0rks junk appears to have become a bit of a virus over at Flickr. Click on T's nose if you want to listen to the Homage to Flickrees ditty.

JDB: snow pics are under the Gotham & Park sets from my main photopage here.

Ice Breaker

2005-01-21T23:41:00.000-05:00

There be storm a-commin'.
Here's the calm...

Snowy Pond

2005-01-17T20:20:00.000-05:00

More snow - whoo hooo. Cold as nadgers though.

String fingers are raw, so summat must be happening.

Coffee Shop

2005-01-17T00:47:00.000-05:00

Coffee Shop
Originally uploaded by birdw0rks.

Have to admit to being quite taken with the Juan Valdez coffee shop for reasons such as this image, & even if it's a chain. Really nice/interesting design to the one on 57th St. & Lex. at least, & (while it shouldn't be rare in NYC, but it is thanks in part to the bastidds that are Stafrucks) an acceptable cup of joe.

CheeryChieri

2005-01-15T20:10:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Chieri!
Originally uploaded by birdw0rks.

We're a few days late, but happy Chieriday!

T

2005-01-15T19:34:00.000-05:00

T
Originally uploaded by birdw0rks.

This has to be one of my favourite shots of this woman (whoever she is). Taken just this morning in an excellently-interiorally-adjectivericherly coffeshop down from where she works off of Lex (57th?). The place has a large wall projection of cheesy old TV ads and an interestingly shaped side wall that curves and ripples under its smooth plaster exterior. Decent coffee too.

In terms of wall-projection, the latest Bill Viola exhibition at the Whitney, which I finally got my arse in gear to see last night (pay-what-you-want night, Fridays; no price on art, me!), is superb. Five high def. vids about 15 minutes long in super slow-mo feature figures entering water. Each one has a slightly different bent: some run forwards, some backwards, some are inverted, one has a split mirror effect, etc. Each has a violent climax when the body (which could be a real human or a weighted dummy - hard to tell) enters (or exits, depending on how you interpret it and which way the images run in each) the water. The review I read slated it and in general Viola's body of work, citing his desire to make video art like paintings, indicating an inferiority complex. His earlier stuff may have more immediate impact, but I disagree that the current showing is anything but superb. Totally engrossing, moving, and visually poignant.

A long weekend here with MLK day on Monday. A chance to actually spend a few hours laying down a few guitar tracks while T's at work dealing with a manic wedding at Fitzpatrick's.

Night night chowheads.

Usual

2005-01-13T22:38:00.000-05:00

foggy
Originally uploaded by birdw0rks.

I feel usual today.
Must be something I didn't eat.

Damp, grey day in Gotham.
Can't say I don't like that though (with the caveat of not being the norm). Like being wrapped in a large, cool, damp dog blanket outside. Seems to make a few people express their paranoia though. "Are you threttneeng me?". Or could just be coincidence.

Bunhead crawled out of the Seattle mirk to send cyberword, typing of fog.

Online find of the evening is Sara's head. Really made me smile, anyway. Her photo site 's pretty damn impressive too. Nice one awfulsara.

Arran

2005-01-12T18:34:00.000-05:00

Isle of Arran
Originally uploaded by birdw0rks.

Was just pooting around in the image archives and this jumped out at me. Snap taken on the wonderful Isle of Arran in Scotland last year. Up there in June it hardly got dark at nights; this shot being taken at some disgustingly early hour of the morning. Must return to Arran.

chumphead

2005-01-10T18:40:00.000-05:00

chumplick
Originally uploaded by birdw0rks.

Testing the flickr bloglink with Mr. Chumplick.

Photo Tub

2005-01-10T18:32:00.000-05:00

Julian Opie has a sense of humour at least then:

"glad you liked it - sorry to see what happened to your wife - awful. JULIAN"

Thanks to Liz, I now have an online stop gap while I put a proper photo site together. Nice little resource, Flickr. I don't really know where to start with my fat collection of digisnaps, so I randomly threw the first batch together.

Manhattan wildlife

2005-01-09T18:24:00.000-05:00

I keep going on about sculpture here so far, but it's purely by chance really....

The Julian Opie installation at City Hall in Manhattan is well worth the visit. More impressive than I was expecting. Around the park there are e.g. animal signs (I love the hedgehog), a cow, a sheep, a city, a flock, a cool LED animation of walking figures: one male one female, and cars. All good for playing silly buggers with. Artists who persue these installations in public spaces must love that interactive aspect of their work, I assume.

We mixed with the tourists today and took the Staten Island ferry over and back from Battery Park. Great views of Manhattan and Liberty on the way back - a combination of cloud over Staten Island and a frontlit Gotham made the city and Lady Liberty look impressive.

Human Buck-a-Roo

2005-01-08T11:29:00.000-05:00

Came across this site a couple of days ago: turns out there are plenty of other folk out there who amuse themselves by taking photos of themselves in reflective surfaces. Like the site a lot already - an excellent idea. Have contributed, of course.

Took a couple of snaps of the Gates in the park as they stand. Total mileage included in the project is becoming aparent as you walk through; god knows what the total cost of the thing is. Turns out the project has been specially timed to open on the saffron-loving Ms. Hartley's birthday :-)

Wedder grey, drizzlie, and cold here in NYC. Had hoped to take a trip out to the extremeties of Montauk this w/e, but have canned it for the time being.

Have to share Dr. Odj's New Year Experience, as emailed this week; lad's still living as he did circa '88:

I spent whole holiday driving or drunk. By the time of the post-footy Boxing Day sesh i couldn't physically force any more booze into my body. NYEve sat in a village pub till one, got back to his place, asleep by 1:00:01am and was then used by rest of crowd as a human buck-a-roo game. various household items where stacked on top of us till i twitched and they fell off. Apparently someone managed an exercise bike! am glad it's all over. the two weeks of debauchery has left me physically and financially ruined, a shadow of the man i was before.

Class.

Had a brain-in-oily-neutral moment this week: was in a meeting in a corporate office in Midtown (fish out of water, me); far too early in the morning. Was directly asked something early on and entered into one of those sentences where you have absolutely no idea what you're going to say, are saying, what your name is, or how you dressed yourself that morning. I found myself staring down at a small cardboard square covered in drawing pins on the table infront of me wondering what on earth they could be used for in an electronically-endowed conference room while my mind drifted fuzzily out of the top of my head to watch five or six meeting participants staring at me with furrowed brows as I wheel-locked mid-syllable with absolutely no idea what I'd just said. Ughh. After what felt like about 35 minutes, I concluded my sentence, totally unable to recall what I'd uttered. Like to make a good impression, me.

Leeds doing well against Brummies then. Ughghghgh.

UKNova has a copy of "Keep in Peel" Radio 1 tribute up, last time I looked (check out the radio section). Haven't listened to the whole thing yet, but 'tis a godsend for those of us that missed it & for whom Peely was so integral to our youth & musical weening.

birdw0rds is born

2005-01-05T22:30:00.000-05:00

happy happy joy joy.

strange things are happening in Central Park.
here come the Gates.
passed by a group of brits on forklifts this morning shifting cast iron bases around into pretty patterns and attempting to chat up some manly-looking Yank bint in overalls. must snap photos on my passage through CP periodically (of the construction, not the bint) leading upto the February completion.

the Fleecie sleeps.

the Birdw0rks' Whisky Project has been born. rumblings of a return to the likes of Islay too. Quaz is tweaking the bits. (he also showed me his first run at the Birdw0rks website, which looks like it has tons of potential, should either and/or both of us ever have time & energy for development. kudos to Prof. Pooge, tho'.)

this year, I are mostly got new instruments in the Cheeky Monkey Recording Studio. hence, expect more strings. slowly the finger skin is toughening up again. taking a v. different approach to the next Birdw0rks offering; breaking things down; resisting recording anything concrete yet as I go around in musical circles, simplifying and working out overlays & such. I'm already interested in the product & it's a long way off even proper conception. good sign.

Who Are You was a departure from the Welsh Discs in that it took an eon to record, painful at times, while the ideas were cobbled together often on the fly in the early stages. it probably suffers from a lack of development. once I record the new stuff, I predict it'll be churned out, but the prep. will be the time consuming stage; already is. whether my myriad of technical weaknesses create a limp biscuit overall, only time'll tell, but the process should be fun. have to say that seeing Uncle Bob again after what, five or so years?, has renewed the influence. not in sound or content, but in passion and craft.

just caught Rivers & Tides, art doc on Andy Goldsworthy whose wooden things Teenee & I went to see on the Met roof a while back. ace stuff. must trot up to the Storm King park at some point. there's also some Opie sculptures downtown at the mo'.