I like to move it, move it.

Dearest reader. Due to an slight incompatibility with Blogger.com and Mac Journal, I have decided to shift allegiance to Wordpress.com. This blog will remain here for now but will no longer be updated (like you care); please direct yourselves here for the continuing slurry of dullness that is my blog.

Bowled over

Today was bowling day, bowling day. B-b-b-b-b-b-b-bowling day. Yes, we all piled down to Brighton marina to wear silly shoes and attempt to sprain our wrists.

Our reputation preceded us, of course, as the staff sent us off to the furthest lane in the building; not wanting us to show the other patrons up with our professional prowess, naturally. To further handicap us, they made sure the lane malfunctioned from the outset: firstly, the kiddy-rails wouldn’t retract; still, the ever-attentive staff were on hand to fix the problem. Sadly, this created another in the process, as the lane didn’t reset and we were left hanging; Little Blubs having already taken her first shot. Again, this was dealt with in what seemed like the blink of an eye, once we’d used the handy Service Call button; 15 times, in fact, before resorting to going back to reception where a varying sequence of gesticulations and noises finally explained the problem to the blank-eyed bowl-monkeys.

All this had the desired effect on our game: we couldn’t have hit a day-glo elephant silhouetted by a brightly lit barn-door. Only Mr. Cheese seemed to have been unfazed by the whole affair and went on to win by a fairly sizeable margin.

A little fresh air was needed after this so we wandered around the marina complex for a while before heading home.

Word of the day: Blepharitis

Blepharitis [blef-uh-rahy-tis]: An inflammation of the eyelids, specifically the margins. Early symptoms include: having to be at the eye hospital almost an hour earlier than you would normally be at work; sitting around for large periods of time doing nothing in particular. 

Initial diagnosis: sitting in a dark room having bright lights shone into your eyes and sneak-attack eye-drops deployed. Followed by more of the same from a comedy bow-tie (Union flag) wearing consultant.

Treatment: One month of self-inflicted torture in the form of two different types of eye-drops and ointment resembling weak glue.

Side effects: Watering; stinging; headache; one of your oldest friends, an administrator at the hospital, belittling your condition and questioning the validity of your middle name.

Hollow plastic dominoes

In the far-distant olden days (pre-1982), buying music was an altogether more rewarding experience: there was no Amazon, no iTunes, no, you had to get off your backside and shuffle down to the shops where you would find row upon row of cardboard-sleeved (or if you were lucky, a picture-disc) vinyl goodness. There was the gentle thwup as you slowly flipped your way through the latest and greatest, stopping occasionally to pull out the album to admire the artwork, the gate-fold and the generally readable text listing lyrics or artist information on the inner sleeve. With a record album, you had something to prop up and admire whilst it played.

Aside from the rapidly dwindling specialist dealers, this nostalgic vision has all but faded away; replaced of course by the clinically perfect Compact Disc. Browsing is now a machine-gun like cacophony of hollow plastic dominoes cracking against one another as people feverishly thumb through them at the sale racks, barely seeing the artist, let alone the artwork. It hardly seems worth bothering anyway, as closer examination only presents you with a track list which would be no more legible had it been written on a grain of rice and placed in a novelty pendant. There is no feeling of substance.

Now you might be thinking that I’m one of these stuck-in-the-dark-ages advocates of vinyl, not so: my LP collection has been stashed away in the loft for several years now; I don’t even own a turntable. My music is purely digital with much of it residing on the computer and the iPod. There's no need to scan up and down the miniscule spines of the cases, my head pitched awkwardly at 45˚, looking for Now That’s What Someone Might Have Called Music 20 Years Ago, Volume 45. No, I can flick through my entire collection, sort it by almost any means, search it and get it to pick me a random selection with the mere click of my mouse. There’s no need for the 5x5 insert, however comprehensive. Track lists, lyrics and even what the producer had for breakfast the day he put it all together can all be gleaned from the ‘net. Well, perhaps not all.

So, as I sat transferring the discs of my music collection from their jewel cases to a DJ case, becoming tidy, vaulted master copies, I found myself wondering if the age of the packaged insert has started its slow decent to oblivion. The artwork has simply become a quick way of knowing which of the five-thousand plus songs is currently pounding in my ears, should I not instantly recognise it; as is so often the case.

125% more interesting

Why have I posted a photo of scaffolding? Firstly because I can but mainly because it's approximately 125% more interesting than a Citrix installation; that's why.

Laying down beats with Bert Monroy

Just like accountancy, Photoshop is not the greatest of party-starters; even if you're in the scene (for want of  a better descriptive), it's difficult to maintain the interest factor much past 3 or 4 sentences.

The production team at Revision3 have obviously noticed this, and, in a fit of insanity (or drugs) decided: what a podcast video of Photoshop techniques really needs is a drum and bass soundtrack. Now I have nothing against a little musical accompaniment but this simply Does Not Work. I found myself periodically wanting to shout down to the unseen teenager to turn their music down; I couldn't hear what the nice man was saying. FFS! 

Perhaps if he were to rap the technique as a Gangsta Rhyme; or better still, and more fittingly, a hoedown patter call: "take your stylus in your hand. Grab the pen tool; make a bend." They could take that on tour. Marvellous. 

Now I'm off to watch Delia Smith prepare chicken in a basket at a Metallica gig.

In the bag

Well, that's the first day of my extra-long bank-holiday weekend 3/4 of the way through. What have I achieved? My review for Focal is complete and sent off, hooray! I tested a couple of new ideas for Elements techniques (model village pictured)  and finished watching The Brave One (I was too tired to do so last night): not a bad film, a little slow at times - although that may have been fatigue based impatience - but not so much to detract from the plot; a welcome twist on the vengeance story-line which is not just a no holds barred violence-fest.