On The QT

Quentin Tarantino came to my town for the first time in 1992. Of the many attractions Nottingham offers, the Broadway Cinema stands proud. Tucked away in Hockley it proffers what I believe are called Art House films: the preferred nomenclature delineating the idiosyncratic and mostly thought provoking brand of entertainment, from the mindless drivel, punted down at the multiplex.

In the summer of 1992, for only the second time, the Broadway held its Shots in the Dark Festival: a feast of crime cinema, my particular bagful, and featuring a wide eyed, ever gesticulating, American gentleman showing his much anticipated debut, Reservoir Dogs. I paid £2.50 student rate and the Artist threw in a Q and us session post- viewing: a remarkable event, a fantastic film and an engaging man.

Tarantino patronised subsequent festivals and brought his equally entertaining Pulp Fiction to Nottingham as the festival's secret feature in 1994. The gaff was, by that time, well and truly blown and even a sniff of a ticket impossible. Tarantinoesque quickly became a by- word for a new cinema and the man himself the personification of knowledge, style, provocative and insightful screen writing, notably Natural Born Killers. Tarantino’s work mined the obscure, the sub-genre, alongside the classical and canonised as he reinvented the oddball cinephile as film artist, convincing us all that we too could traverse the arc from video store to the Weinstein Empire.

Of course Quentin liked the attention, the unique fame bestowed by a stellar rise, the genius discovered, the notoriety of an enfant terrible: fame, I’m told, lets him loose, hard to swallow and QT’s subsequent moves were represented by the familiar parabola describing rise in notoriety, celebrity and commercial success against a plunge in quality, substance, innovation and eventual collapse into cliché and self parody.

The taught and urgent drama, the Mamet-like dialogue, the economy of expression, the violent shocks, the black humour, the stylised yet engaging pathos of his characters, discarded for ponderous indulgence. Witness his flaccid, plodding, tribute to Pam Grier, Jackie Brown, failing to engage with the substance of crime fiction or the style of Blacksploitation. Or the un-epic Shaw Bothers cum Sergio Leone saga of Kill Bill and the RTA that is Deathproof: I found the Dukes of Hazard more substantive and engaging. His work has become an ever more elaborate litany of pastiche and plagiarism, glued together by vague notions and symbols of his own half-baked sub-genre. He is lauded by audiences for whom an easily obtained reference marks an end in itself, the cultural equivalent of a PoMo patchwork comfort blanket.

And then there came the associated industry: forests of fawning prose; popular culture bookshelves stuffed with sub-academic analysis and rejected dissertation material; the cult of personality; the procession of involved discussions led by the man himself, as dull and navel gazing as a BFI Kubrick convention and featuring another bug eyed, ADHD performance, each sentence punctuated with a million okays, double, triple positives reinforcing the complex content of his project to capture the great car chase or the interminably fine details of Beat Takeshi’s oeuvre.

The media outlets are in full chorus anticipating his latest as QT takes on the World War 2 Movie and no doubt we can expect cartoonish, stylised, ultra-violence and faintly ambiguous morality nailing its colours firmly to Pekinpah’s iron cross.... Fame: bully for you, chilly for me.

Reactive Agent Reports Activity

On the western front of music, the Reverend will be active this Friday in the lower reaches of the southern hemisphere.

The second N**i Disco gig will be held at the Mutton Club, Whanganui on Friday 5th June 2009.

The 2 sonic pranksters will be 'blitzing' the audience with their unique aural assault of Tribalspacefunknoisegrimepop. The other bands are supposed to be really good too!

The group show 'Ivan Rebroff is my Security Blanket' featuring the 'Techniques for Self Sabotage' series by Neil Buddle, is on until Wed 10th june at the Federal Gallery, Whanganui, New Zealand.

this funky and ecelectic group show, features a cast of creative suspects, inhabiting the fringe of Whanganui. These include Erica Sklenars, Dylan Herkes, Bridget Tyson, Brandon Sayring, Mike Marsh, Deborah Halliday and more.

Whats in a name?

Since excitedly posting on my new recent musical adventures in a band called 'Nazi Disco', I have been challenged on the reasons for the name.

For background the word NAZI was a nickname given by their opponents and taken from the letters N and Z which stood for Nationalen Zocialisten or the 'National Socialists'. The Third Reich did develop from the National Socialists, but by the time of the war all pretense of being a political party had ultimately been discarded. The catchy nickname however remained and it seems, has stood the test of time.

To qualify, I do not support, genocide, imperialism, intolerance, mass extermination, censorship or white supremacy in any forms. I do however support free speech, equality, historical awareness, tolerance, collaboration and progress.

I didn't think up the name but in its defense and as I have explained elsewhere, its not about the Germans, or the Nazis. The name is about the relentless mechanisation of the world and the widespread and continual intolerance, violence and persecution across all cultures. to this point we are all "dancing the Nazi Disco' a petrol fuelled, idealised humanity, marching, bang-bang-bang along the autobahns, towards our own destruction and trampling ourselves in its way. It is supposed to be ironic?

Alas that symbol, the dreaded swastika, despite being a 'borrowed' perversion of a peaceful bhuddist symbol, is mythologicaly powerful in popular culture . this power really needs to fade, to be ridiculed, deflated and danced on.

The Sound device which sounds more like Balinese Gamelan than the teutonic oompah of the hordes of doom happened to come into being at the same time as the band. Truthfully as a Pom I grew up on old war movies, army kitsch, hippies wearing army german surplus, toy soldiers and many a Tommy comic full of swastikas and German soldiers crying 'Achtung Englander!", much to our amusement. The device has a sort of crude technological look and could be a stolen radio device or some other esoteric secret N**i device, like many that were the basis for the post-war industrial age and economic boom (Vorsprung durch Technik), rocket flight, radio telescopes etc.

I dont just do 'pretty pictures' and I feel that as well as celebrating the good it is important to challenge the bad. Hopefully in doing so we break down some of those barriers that stop us from seeing the complex truth of our reality and history, which is never black or white. To do this one must critique and one of the most effective forms is parody, pastiche, to amplify something until its own inherent deficiencies are obvious to all.

Of course ultimately the idea is suppoed to be that the Nazis, the Swastika are not what we have to worry about. They are no danger to us now, they were beaten thoroughly and that form of unashamed supremacy, will not occurr in that brazen form again. Whatever neo-nazi groups are left are imbeciles at best and really not clever enough to be dangerous(they would be pleased at the fear and power exterted by their old logo). However the same mentality of oppression still exists, the same persecutions are going on, whether it's religion, sexuality, colour, tribe, caste, people preaching religious intolerance, starting wars for profit, exploiting the poor and on and on and on....these are the people to be scared of, except that now they are not wearing easy to spot uniforms with distinctive symbols anymore. They are sublimated through the system, through business and their borders are not defined by the old national boundaries. They still want to rule the world at any cost, they have always existed and always will.

...and remember sometimes past victims become the aggressors, the bullied become the bully and not only is that dangerous but ultimately, as inexcusable as the original offence?

So feel free to challenge me on the name, I am not going to spend too much time making the obvious point that I am not a NAZI, but I am still doing the Nazi Disco Ja, just like all of you.

Nazi Disco

Saturday night, 9th May saw the first performance by tribal-noise-punk act 'Nazi Disco', comprising of the Reverend and Adam Elliot. A small but enthusiastic crowd watched the bands 20 minute set at Stink Magnetic Records HQ in Whanganui.

Despite its awkward moments and 'technical difficulties' the dynamic duo, pummeled the audience with heavy rhythms and discordant riffs, soaked in noise, enduring wolf-whistles and sardonic requests for the Eagles! The next gig will be at The Mutton Club, Whanganui - Da Sein Oder 'Square' Sein!

Experimental Sonic Research:

This menacing looking device was discovered by the Reverend in an old chest, hidden at the end of WW2, until now. This sonic weapon, utilises organic and man-made items to create an astonishing array of sound, that appears harmless acoustically, until amplified, when its true and frightening potential is made clear. A recording of this weapon in use, was found with the device, but efforts to transfer the signal to a digital recorder, unsurprisingly scrambled the 21st century technology!

Audio:
Song Recycle (Excerpt)

Metonymy 09

If selected 2 new works will be exhibited in Auckland from this weekend. The Metonymy 09 Exhibition is held as part of the Auckland Writers Festival at the Edge Gallery, Aotea Centre, Auckland, 9th - 23rd May. Visual artists and writers are paired up and given 4 weeks to collaborate to produce new work.

I was teamed with Desiree Gezentsvey a poet and playright. We selected 2 poems with language as their theme (Lingua Franca and Penned In).

The paper itself was hand-made form a crossword dictionary to add to the literary reference.

Feeling the Affect

Watching Pier Paolo Passolini’s Salo I was struck again by JG Ballard’s maxim that we have long since succumbed to the death of affect: we are saturated with imagery and ideas of violence, ritualised, stylised, mediated ad infinitum, and thus conditioned to treat them with the deference we reserve for the mundane. I have to disagree.
In Passolini’s film the essence of De Sade’s 120 days of Sodom is transported to Mussolini’s idealised Fascist state, Salo. Here under the auspices of Nazi troops, four members of the Italian social elite comport themselves with decadence, with zealous, experimental, abandon.
Passolini makes it clear where he stands: the ideological associations of the participants, the setting of the story, the faux-polemic, and philosophically bogus utterances of the Faschismo alumni, shows us moral bankruptcy and indulgence so foul, so sexually violent and self-annihilating , that there can be no room for ambiguity. This is, he unequivocally states, wrong.
I found the experience shocking: this is Passolini’s greatest success - affecting me with a deep-seated and brutal convulsion toward his art, infusing me with the visceral disgust I felt gazing at the horrors of his work. I have waited a while to view this sometime banned and notorious film. I attempted to approach it with the same trepidation I felt when, as a kid on the hunt for forbidden enlightenment, I was finally able to procure a pirated, videotaped copy, of A Clockwork Orange. Now I can only imagine that Ludovico’s technique comprises compulsory and endless exposure to Salo. Poor Alex couldn’t close his eyes, couldn’t switch it off. I too was unable to completely look away. Nor could I refuse reflecting upon it.
What of comparative experiences, encounters with works that have shocked me? Cronenbourg’s Crash: a car showroom; automotive fetishism; wound penetration: but there is something in the prosthetic plasticity and stylised act that lacks real power and is almost ridiculous. And it is, of course, a consensual union.
Francisco Goya’s , Great Feat! With Dead Men! show war crimes, dismembered guerrilla fighters, body parts impaled on tree branches, a torso here, a head there, discarded limbs scattered about. And here come the Chapman Brothers with their contemporary sculptured version, Great Deeds against the Dead, the meaning of Goya’s original transmuted to suit their agenda: a physical metaphor of the psychic damage inflicted by ideology, much the same intent, possibly, as Passolini’s project.
I can’t claim to like Jake and Dinos Chapman’s work; like is simply not part of the lexicon they allow us to describe it. But it is worthy of my attention and gives me pause for thought. They understand provocation, repulsion. They know how to affect. As does Marcus Harvey with Myra were children’s hand prints in primary school hues coalesce into the serial killer’s portrait, her empty eyed gaze, the same as in the thousands of reproductions of that 1950’s, tabloid newspaper photograph. It is a devastating work, the economy of expression, the simplicity of the idea, the nauseous feeling of affect.

Metonymy-Oh-Me-Oh-My

Your friendly neighbourhood Reverend (Aka Neil Buddle) has entered the Metonymy 09 exhibition, which is part of the Auckland Writers Fest. This exhibition pairs up artists and writers to produce a collaborative work, including visual art and performance. The pairs are selected by the organisers and the pairs are therefore previously unbeknownst to each other.
The Rev has been paired with Wellington poet and playwright Desiree Gezentzvey. We are working on illustrative prints of 3 poems.

If selected for the final exhibition, the works will be on display on Level 4, Aotea Centre between the 9th-23rd May.
For more information goto: METONYMY

Cut Off Your Nose

Here it s the 3rd Instalment of the 'Techniques for Self- Sabotage' series, entitled Cut Off Your Nose To Spite Your Face...

situationism for artsache

from: www.youtube.com/watch?v=2SvdWk8zRrI

Art Is Tree

The notion of art and artist is forever being tested and re-defined. As a self-proclaimed wannabe artist and ex-arts worker, the definitions, assumptions, cliches and stereotypes that accompany this discussion, challenge and disappoint me in equal measure.

Working with arts students as I do currently, is interesting because art school is where many people come to live out their stereotype or have them reinforced by the previous generation of dilettantes-cum-tutors. To the public, artists can be seen to be vague, lazy, pretentious, arrogant, un-professional, difficult divas. Unfortunately this is one of the stereotypes that some artists love to live out, often the less talented ones.

In my dealing with artists, time and time again, I am confronted by people asking for special help and dispensation, because they are 'creative (A hugely over-used word). These 'creative' people believe that they deserve these special dispensations, as if it is a known fact and an unwritten law of the universe. It is often at this point that I ask why do 'creative people' deserve special rules and dispensations? Are artists needs more important than that of others? Are artists superior beings, the pinnacle of humanity and above nurses, teachers, plumbers and fast-food technicians? These questions are closely followed by "If artists are open-minded, capable, adaptable individuals as is claimed, why are they/us so high-maintenance? It is usually at this point, that the art-world bubble starts to burst! They are hard questions, especially to someone couched in the comfortable assumption that they are special and the world wants to bathe in their unique wondrousness.

In my art studies one of the most influential topics I studied was the Russian contstructivists of the post WW1 period. These artists faced with a western world in ruin, dismissed the notion of art for arts sake, in favour of art for the common Good. They though that artists should get involved in social causes, politics, architecture, engineering, clothing, apply themselves to rebuilding the world in a better way through becoming integral in the processes. Their image of the artist was as creative worker, in a boilersuit, pencils in pocket; a pragmatic, creative problem solver interacting on an essential level with society. Not playing peripheral party-pooper. Espousing a life on the margins of society whilst courting and demanding the same society give attention and reward to their special gifts.

In my work often I have been amazed by how bad artists are at communicating visually outside of their art-form. If it is to do with advertising, marketing, promotion or any other form of professional networking, artists tend to either fully refuse or resist as if it is an affront to their superior moral standing and altruism or engage so badly with them as to be damaging. As with most tools and systems, they are not inherently evil. Advertising is a tool for increasing awareness of something, this is a necessary tool and as ever it is how we use it that counts. Marketing and advertising offer the artist a fantastic opportunity to communicate their uniqueness, their visual language, their approach etc. to their target audience, in advance of the actual work, in the same way an entree might whet your appetite for the main course of a meal.

One of the other damaging things is the expectation of funding/grants/support which seems like a throwback to the old 'wealthy patron'. Patronage in the arts is important but it is also a trap of sorts. Art school sets up students to believe that they will not make money, they will not be taken seriously as professionals and they will not be valued. This teaching is often based on the bitter experience of tutors who clearly followed that trajectory. With this attitude, changing whatever prejudices the professional and public world has will be hard. Funding is great and it allows for exploration of important concepts that may not be commercially supported but advance and inform practice. However what use is a generation of artists going out into the world expecting a living, producing obscure temporal art-works that preach to the converted and deter the average viewer, however 'radical' and 'new' the concept appears according to the days fashions?

Personally for me art is about communicating ideas to the largest audience possible. These ideas should be produced practically and distributed as democratically as possible. As in the time of the constructivists, we need artists to engage with the modern world and bring what ever gifts they do have to bear on society. We don't need a lot of aloof creatives, watching from the backbenches as the world turns to custard saying "I'm not a part of this".

Of course 'horses for courses'. There is room for all and that is one of the wonderful things about the art-world. However don't profess to be one thing and demand another. Don't make inaccessible works in secret and expect to be rewarded in public, however 'important' the idea. Don't sell aesthetically pleasing objects with no message and expect to be feted as an visionary artist. And whatever you do don't expect the world to beat a path to your door and give you what you deserve or expect the world to pave the way from your door to the world, just in case you condescend to walk it one day.

With gifts come responsibilities not privileges. Do your work, work hard, represent yourself well, use your creativity in all areas of your life and practice, offer all, expect nothing - you are your own reward.

Techniques for Self-Sabotage

CUT OFF YOUR NOSE!

As I have currently been working on the set of prints entitled 'Techniques for Self-Sabotage', the notion has been playing on my mind. For it seems that when in life I am given the easy job, plenty of time or a free reign - I abuse it in some way. If the devil truly finds work for idle hands, I am a valued employee of Beelzebub. This instinct has always been there, even when I was pre-teen, I would be getting top grades at school and go vandalising, breaking and entering factories or setting fires after school. These petty crimes served as excitement, entertainment and challenge, all things sadly lacking from my intellectual stimulation of the time. These activities also exposed another world, a world beyond the confines of rules, discipline and moral prerogative. This world had its own rules, its own logic and its own rewards. In its chaos, especially fire there was some sense of beauty, a very natural one, the sublime beauty and awe of a hurricane vs. a sunny day.

Sometimes these self-sabotaging instincts help, burning your bridges can be a good way to make sure you move forward in life and calamitous if you ever need to retreat. So here I am 'cutting off my nose to spite my face' in preparation for the next print in the series. And if you out there are twiddling your thumbs, doing something you shouldn't be, for a thrill that the consequences outweigh, then beware for you may also a Master of Self-Sabotage.

wet night

wetnight©burgseye2005

its a wet night, north easterlies, they always catch this westward looking nation off guard, they make off with the sun in a roughed up roll of cumulus, blindly running at the horizon, without plan, with little to sustain them beyond Auckland's anorexic waistline, some how they drop their plunder mid Tasman, dissolve into the ether and regroup again some place in the equatorial Pacific, random vandal winds ripping the yachts off their east coast moorings, delivering carnage across gentrified burbs, inverting umbrella's and Maralynising secretaries skirts at traffic lights, no remorse, no apology, no place like Auckland in a storm.

Do you believe in Dog? No I believe in Dig!

Having not blogged for sometime, I thought I would warm myself up again with a minor topic -Religion vs. Science!

Arguments between religious and scientific factions have been going on for a very long time. The overall sense (if the protagonists are to be believed) is that the 2 are incompatible, indeed apposite to each other. The 2 camps, darwinian evolutionists and christian creationists, battle it out to score points against the enemy. The darwinians battle for evolution as a natural, physical process catalysed by chemical and physical processes, themselves set in motion by some vast historic release of energy. The creationists argue that an all powerful supernatural entity, created the universe, according to an intelligent design.

With advances in tested human knowledge, the creationists have taken big hits, from the existence of the dinosaurs to the mapping of the human genome. However what the creationists have lost to acknowledged scientific fact, they have made up for with more faith and rhetoric to back up their claim and push for their 'truth' to once again be taught to children as scientific fact.

Having spent 10 years as a child, first accepting the catholic faith, then rejecting it, I have some knowledge of the religion from the inside and have gone through all the questioning, that acccompanies the spiritual crisis. I accepted it and then rejected it and no years later find myself strangely in a more ambivalent position.

One of the things that always seemed obvious to me was the lack of need for historic veracity in religions that primarily use parable and story to instruct people in a 'spiritual' way of life. The 10 commandments as dictated by Moses, or not, are widely viewed in the western world and beyond as a good basis for basic human law and respect. The message of the 10 commandments has a clear ring of truth to it. 'Thou shalt not steal' - you can't fault it. The need to anchor this story in a real place in history, was originally more for narrative effect surely than as an attempt at documentary style accuracy.

The same can be said for the Book of Genesis vs. the Big bang. The polarity of the antagonists hinders their ability to see the similarities. In Genesis God creates the world in 6 days, starting with void/darkness, then a burst of light, a couple of days brewing up the gas and rocks, add water, basic life, vegetation etc. then on the last day, us, humans. In the big bang story, there is nothing, a void, a big bang happens, worlds form from a melting pot of gas and rock, then comes, water, atmosphere, basic life, vegetation, animals and in the last 2 million years , us humans. Now the timescale is different of course but the order of events, the rough ratio of time is consistent. The reason for the 7 day claim is clearly again a device to simplify the story for the laymans comprehension (A week is easier to understand than billions of years). Also it imbues the act with greater awe value. Really the book of Genesis is an extraordinarily accurate account of the big bang, if one is more interested in the plot than the details! The trouble comes from the from the creationists' insistence that it is literally true and the darwinians who say it is literally untrue. Neither is right and both are, there is just no reconcilliation. They may even have something to inform each others arguments if only they would try?

This doesn't resolve the existence of God, or does it? Again one could answer that evolution in the scientific sense demonstrates a natural intelligence, a purpose or at least an inevitability that propels change. Whether it exists at at a sub-atomic level or as a supernatural entity on a cloud, the obvious fact is, there is a motivational force, whether it is pure energy, phenomena, magic or miracle. The religious explanation again is much simpler for the layman, and creates many opportunities for control in the form of worship and penance. This explanation satisifes the need, borne of insecurity, that there is something larger than us, looking after us, deciding the future. This is less scary or complex to explain than energy catalysing matter and its endless permutations. Some religions like Bhuddism focus on a 'god within' us all. This tallies more easily with some aspects of science than the beliefes of the monothiestic religions, as Bhuddism concludes that we are part of a greater organism and that organism is the essence of god, ergo we are god and god is us.

Other bible stories, particularly old testament can also be considered parables of truth. The Tower of Babel and the splitting of the one tribe into many, is a story that anthropologists have proved to a reasonable degree of scientific certitude. We originally developed as a species in one main area, we grew togther, then split apart due to some need/disagreement/crisis and went our seperate ways for a long time, to reunite later, bringing together new skills, new ideas that made the species as a whole stronger and more adpatable, from which point in time, we blossomed.

The Flood, Noahs Ark, again, we know of significant climactic events in history, perhaps someone or a group of people did save many animals from disaster, repopulating an area afterwards? Again it is the message of the story, the need to preserve our fellow creatures for the common good and for the future of our species and our known world. A concept that in this time of climate awareness we are all aware of, and is supported by science, through projects like the seed bank in Norway or the Eden Project in Great Britain (which tellingly uses a biblical story to describe its purpose and its philosophy).

As usual the story of the human race is people with a common aim/goal or idea splitting hairs until different factions become diametrically opposed to each other. That is why Jews, Christians and Moslems fight, brothers fighting amongst themselves for control of the family. Science fighting religion for a truth that they have both sought, discovered and celebrated.

Now more than ever we should look to our similarities and our common needs and desires for the spirit and look to the differences in the details, the angles, to help us see the whole picture. Then maybe we can truly understand the divine science and the scientific divinity of our own existence in a universe that ultimately will always be one step ahead of our own comprehension. It is this mystery that drives both our spiritual and scientific quests, that are one and the same thing - A valiant attempt to understand and celebrate our place in the universe.

making a fist of it

fist©burgseye1997

wringing the imagination for new insights and fresh angles...
me today. no-thing new there, just clearing the slate for whatever's next...
..

picnic table

Damufukas©burgseye06

Some lunch time light reading on a picnic table in Whanganui.

mercs place -for the weather too

mercsplace©burgseye02(?)

another sauna of a night in auckland. sticky honey dripping, sky heavy as an upturned tank, calm closing in, lights on in the burbs -flower buds in a field of green & black...

i'm reminded of a day/night spent at mercs in the fields at muriwai out of sight of the waves. many years past many swells broken under the cliffs at maori bay...

Singers and players

Junior Reid & Jah Paul @JR studios Uptown Kingston JA 1993©burgseye1993
Exploiting the fact that the legendary Micheal Rose ex-frontman of Black Uhuru is in town to play Splore's Living Lounge on 26th February, I decided to post these images of another ex-Black Uhuru front man the equally massive Junior Reid. The images were shot at his studio home in Uptown Kingston JA 1993. I had the good fortune to be travelling with the inimitable Stinky Jim whose tidal wave of musical knowledge and general good vibe won us many an interview with various stars of that time. More later.

one for the weather

upnorth©burgseye1997

a one for the weather, post.
up north is one of 42 images taken from the 2002 'close to home' show at Lopdell House's Upstairs gallery, Titirangi. a book, a postcard series of images shot between 1997 and 2000, yeah right, another shelved project more like, the basis of ongoing enquiry...and still recieving enquires about it and the subsequent 'here and now' joint show at spiral gallery in 2004(?) from some who have picked up the thread latterly.

ha

ha and then i realise why i haven't posted for so long cos my colour images all end up negatised on the blog. ha ha ha...man now that is art, or not...suggestions are welcome

waitangi day

images ©burgseye 1998

Waitangi Day Zero9 and I feel fine. Well perhaps a little bit oddddd as I've been in front of this box for days on end. My friend Merc has kicked my butt to post, he caught me at a good time so i decided to post some rather obvious pics given the day but i like em anyways and besides i get in before the usually prolific Rev comes up with something that will knock me flat back on me arse.

yessirree a good day, ra is incorrigible, providing us the kind of summer i remember having as a kid, the kind of summer that fuels future rose tinted reminiscing about summers past. on an island between great seas the climate is all consuming. our state run media are turning it into an unhealthy obsession with three weather segments -each one repeating what kind of weather day we just experienced one forecasting whats ahead- during a one hour 'news' show.

and i as i write this, one of our neighbours or perhaps one of their ubertalented friends is cranking into keyboard tinkering on their analogue hammond, some how even tuning can be as good as bird call, especially when the winged critters have already crawled into their nests.

call of the wild-man inside i wanna go blaze my speakers with some kind of whitenoise like Wires 1,2XU or the reverse some bass throbbing Burning Spear dubwise: whitehotandcocoonwarmth.

anycase, its getting close to the end of another great day between rangi and papa and i got another psrt of this project to knock over before i fall over so its over and out.