Today Conrad ventured forth into the City of Sin and Wickedness, a.k.a. Babylon the Lesser (London being Babylon the Mighty), or - conventionally - Manchester. Most unusually it wasn't raining; in fact the sun shone and a brisk breeze blew. The only problem were the crowds of shoppers getting in the way. O for a light-sabre!
"But why!" I can hear your mordant tones intoning (tonally) "Why visit Sodom-On-Irwell?"
Because, dear reader, Elbow and Eels have just released new records, and I haven't bought a CD in months. I have an itinerary:
1) Get off 83 bus outside Oxfam bookshop
2) Once done there, go to Fopp!*
3) Swing by the Arndale Book Stall
4) Go Home
No "browsing" or "just looking" or "comparing". Conrad's attitude to shopping is exemplified by Jack Nicholson's character in "As Good As It Gets" - he looks into a clothes shop from the doorway, points at a jacket and says "I want that one!"
The Fruits Of Fopp!
Here's what I got. I know you're dying to know what Conrad got.
And the Flaming Lips CD comes with a mini-CD ("The Sun Blows Up Today") - not sure if it'll play in the drive. We shall see. Also I'm glad to note the John Coltrane CD played this time - the last JC CD didn't work in the drive.
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| Too small for the CD player. Don't worry, Conrad will figure it out |
Hang on - look at the time - 18:14 - that's 14 minutes past Beer O'Clock! I have Old Golden Hen waiting for me, also some Reskorderlik. Hang on, don't overthrow any governments while I'm gone -
- there, back with my steinful of OGH. Where were we?
Animated Animals
Just a photo-essay that illustrates the differing speeds of 1) a 20 week old puppy and 2) A cybernetic cat on "Standby" mode
The Kraken Wakes
Finally finished annotating the novel this morning, fuelled by giant pot of English Breakfast Tea and toast with apricot jam. Mercifully both cats and dog kept clear, TVM.
Then, thinks Conrad to himself, what about all the dialogue? This is going to be central to a screenplay, some will have to be revised, some left out, some swapped about. Should I sit down and copy out all the dialogue? I'd have to do most of that for a screenplay.
That it wouldn't be a task taking mere minutes is hinted at by the amount of notation required simply to summarise the plot and make points about it in the light of today's world versus John's:
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| The plot, annotated. That's 240 pages worth of notes, matey. |
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| Characters and locations - mentioned and visited. Conrad thorough |
It is the kind of thing I enjoy, though. But don't tell anyone - it makes me sound like a middle-aged man**.
So You Want To Be A Supervillain?
No! Not literally! That, gentle reader, is a rhetorically-phrased question, not an invitation. I had intended to have it here as an item for BOOJUM! a couple of paragraphs long at the most, but it has already taken up a page of A4 in Conrad's spidery scrawl. Maybe, once developed, it will end up here in sections with appropriate illustrations. In the meantime Conrad is enjoying wielding a pen for creative writing. A keyboard is efficient, granted, yet it lacks the physicality or sensuality of a well-balanced fountain pen.
Talking Of Pens
Gaze upon Conrad's daily pen-loading (left selection) and his fountain pens (right selection).
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| Pens, mightier than a whole lot of swords. |
The Take Off And Landing Of Everything (by Elbow)
Listening to this for the first time now, and it's really rather good. I thought "Build A Rocket Boys" was actually Elbow's weakest album, even whilst being delighted about their success with it. No such qualms about this album - only 4 tracks in but even if the other 6 are cack, still a corker.
Guy and the lads done good!
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| "Elle Beau" (say it aloud!). From "Cast of Thousands". |
So - Tanks?
We've not had any for a while so - just to assuage your sanguinary propensities*** - you may have this:
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| "Come on chaps, it's only 28 tons - One - Two - Three - HEAVE!" |
No, these are not superhuman troops - Australians, so not far off actually - it's a dummy Mk IV tank made of wood and fabric being lifted into position. The trees are intact, as is the house in mid-left so it's either in mid- to late-1918 or well behind the lines. With no kit or rifles or Brodie helmets present, probably the latter.
Finally - well nearly
A Kelpie, in action.
| White horses^ |
This was a Scottish water-demon that manifested itself as a beautiful white horse, except when anyone mounted the "horse", it would dive headlong into the nearest water, drowning the hapless rider.
Excuse me? Were Conrad's Celtic ancestors stupid as stones?
Observe the kelpie above. Does it have a saddle? Harness? Bit? No, none of those, which are essential for riding a horse in the first place. When the evil beast starts to make for water at speed, what would it's rider do? That's right, fall off immediately. because there's 1) No sadddle and 2) THERE'S NO SADDLE. Even if the panicked rider did not fall off, be assured they would jump off, as soon as possible.
Okay, for argument's sake we assume the kelpie does manage to keep their rider mounted. It then has to get into water deep enough for the rider to drown. Say what? Does this kelpie have recourse to an hydrographer who can analyse nearby bodies of water and suggest that with the deepest water? What if it's summer and the water level has diminished enormously thanks to drought, and the kelpie ends up only fetlock-deep? "Excuse me, can we go back and try again further downstream?"
Not only that, thanks to there being NO SADDLE and hence no way for the rider to stay on the kelpie, once this creature hits deep water, the rider will remain on the surface. Plus - radical thinking here - the rider might be able to swim.
Kelpies. Now extinct. And no wonder!
Okay Really Finally
Nothing sells like a cute puppy, apparently. So here is Edna at the only time you can get a good close-up of her, i.e. sound asleep
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| Work those cute puppy genes, Edna! Generate blog traffic for daddy! |
* Fopp! - a music shop. Music and CDs, at very reasonable prices. They're still here and HMV isn't, so who got it right?
** I know I am, but a man can pretend can't he, dammit!
*** Conrad - poetic or pretentious - only you can decide!
^ You have to admit, not a bad pun.
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