Minimal

Not dead, just in need of a holiday

I’ve not posted much in the last two weeks. Apologies, if you were hoping to read stuff here. The only stuff I’ve been motivated to write about have been things that upset me. Consequently, I got half way through a post and then gave up, in a haze of depression. Here are a few things that got me down this last week:

• Daring Fireball needlessly widens the gulf between the Mac and Wintel communities
• Newcastle United just plain suck at football right now
• Little Red Book appears lost to a general disillusionment (write about it, Kev, don’t just give in!)
• Iraq is steadily becoming more of a mess than I’d imagined possible

It’s a wonderful world, isn’t it? Still, I’ll be smiling like a complete idiot this time tomorrow. Croft awaits... :)

No regrets

You know how it hurts when you look back to the missed opportunities of your youth? Chances to fulfil your dreams that you passed up simply out of a lack of confidence or belief? Maybe you don’t (in which case I envy you), but I’ve had my fill of it. For that reason, I’m entering a couple of competitions this year:

1. Be A Racing Driver
2. Be A Grand Prix Driver

It’s highly likely I’ll come out of this with nothing more than a £250+ hole in my bank account, but at least I’ll be able to say I had a go. And that alone will make it worth it. Wish me luck — I’m gonna need it! :)

P.S. I have no delusions here. If I even get past the first round in either of these things, I’ll be well chuffed.

Like a moth to a flame

I’m beginning to think I should stay away from modern art galleries. Too often, I come away thinking “What a load of horseshit”.

This time it was The Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art in Edinburgh. I’ll admit to being deeply impressed by the level of detail and accuracy of reproduction in the Boyle family’s work, but their ideas of its symbolism just leave me cold. Their entire work comes from little more than chucking darts into a map and then recreating a patch of ground from that location in resin and other media. Just like the Meccano bridges exhibited at the Baltic last year, the reproduction ends up being just that — a perfect reproduction and nothing more. Where’s the art in that? Where’s the artist’s interpretation, adding value and offering insight? There’s none. It’s just another f•••ing piece of wasteland, copied clod for clod and hung on a wall. It doesn’t even convey any sense of mood, for crying out loud. Don’t get me wrong — it’s an impressive facsimile (and one I was in awe of), but that’s all it is.

Okay, so maybe I have issues with modern art, but... isn’t this what any traditional artist is doing too? Aren’t they also reproducing things they see before them? Where’s the art in that? Oh god, here we go again. This is where I start to despair. What’s the point of art? Photography too, for that matter. I really shouldn’t go to art galleries.

I think, at the end of the day, I just don’t know what I’m looking for in art. At least, not until I see it. Maybe I’m impressed by sheer scale (Angel of the North). Maybe I’m impressed by a moment being perfectly captured, along with its moods, thoughts, feelings and images (as in good photos). Maybe I’m even impressed by the occasional bit of symbolism. I don’t know what it is, but I’m hoping I’ll know when I see it.

Darn those crazy commies!

China blocks foreign software [news.com]
Now, there’s being anti-Microsoft and there’s being anti-Microsoft. This definitely falls into the latter category. ;)

Michael, and the taking thereof

Richard Herring got unwittingly deep and quite touching in this Wednesday’s post. Referring to himself and his family as idiots, he observed:

The other people you meet can mask their real idiocy and idiosyncrasy because you only interact with them for a few hours a day, but your family (and you yourself) don’t have that luxury. We see each other at our eccentric best and our annoying worst.

Which means you’re allowed to be incredibly rude to each other.

Is that what love boils down to?

That really rang true with me. I take the piss out of my family incessantly, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love them. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m sure you take the piss too. Hopefully not out of my family, mind — that would just be rude.

So, to anyone who knows me, bear this in mind: if I can’t take the piss out of you, we’ll never truly be close. But then, you’ve probably already realised that. ;)

Betty Crocker cracker

If you’re a Brit who’s struggled with US recipes because they measure things in cups (how precise!), these conversions might be of help. With thanks to the Google Calculator [via kottke].

All het up

Being interested in usability is a bit of a double-edged sword. On the good side, even at a basic level, it’s a fascinating thing, showing you hidden depths of how people relate to the world around them. And you get to make the world a better place. :) On the bad side, most people tend not to notice any improvements you make. Conversely, you become more aware of just how much shit there is in the world (too damn much!).

Yes, I’ve had one of those days.

The Fringe beckons

Well, despite an awful lack of commitment to buying tickets and a shoddy website ordering process, I’m off to the Edinburgh Fringe tomorrow night to see Ash giving his all in a lift. I’ll be back the same night, but I’m also off to Edinburgh this Friday, spending the weekend scrounging a bed from a friend. Should be good. Shows I’m definitely going to be seeing are:

• Ashley Frieze: Claustrophobia Cure EXTREME!
• Ross Noble: Unrealtime
• The Jonny Berliner Band
• Fleamarket Festival of Funk @ The Counting House

I’ll post reviews as soon as I get back, honest. Well, ok, maybe a few days later.

Honesty and the best policy

Don’t you just hate how honesty isn’t always the best policy? Even when you’ve got something really positive to say, it can still mess up someone else’s head or just make you sound weird. Bah.

Supporting local talent

Prepare to dance to a new beat [Evening Chronicle]

North East band Because We Can release their debut single, Dust, on Monday.

To mark the event, the CD will be launched with a free live show and signing session at HMV, Newcastle, at 5pm on the release day (all ages are welcome).

This may be a shameless plug for a mate’s band, but I really hope this, plus the evening gig at Trillian’s, will see the lads get the success they deserve. See you there? :)

Proud to be a Geordie?

I was at the Newcastle United vs. Bayern Munich pre-season friendly last night. Never before have I seen such a gathering of two-faced weasely bastards. Sadly, I’m talking about the Newcastle fans here. After moaning so heartily about the Toon’s acquisition of rent-a-thug Lee Bowyer over the summer, the assembled 32,000 saw fit to give him a hero’s welcome on his first appearance and a standing ovation on leaving the pitch. I, for one, did not stand. Nor did I clap. I just sat there in disbelief. Proud to be a Geordie? Not any more.

Tyne and Wear Heritage Open Days

From the 12th to the 15th September, loads of historic buildings and monuments in Tyne and Wear are being opened to the public. Among other things, if you’ve not already been up it, this is a rare chance to get to the top of Grey’s Monument. Well, provided you can fit through the tiny door at the bottom, that is. :)

A local pub for local people

Ever walked into a country pub, only for time to stand still as you’re checked out by the locals? I experienced exactly this cliché on Friday night at the Borough Arms in Malmesbury, Wiltshire. The six people scattered around the small room all turned to face the outsider and I was left with the classic cough-and-leave or confidently-buy-a-pint dilemma. In a perverse kind of way, I found it all amusing, so I just carried right on, ordered a John Smith’s and took a seat.

Thankfully, the pub filled out a bit later and I took my chance to challenge the regulars to a few friendly games of pool. I even coaxed a few half-conversations out of them and chuckled along with their banter. It was only as we were about to be kicked out at closing time that one of them sidled up and uttered the immortal line, "So who are you then?" I had to laugh. "We’re a friendly pub, but no-one’s spoken to you much," he said, berating his mate sat next to me at the bar. To be honest, it didn’t bother me that much — I’m not a big fan of smalltalk anyway. Maybe I was the perfect outsider — inoffensive, friendly enough... but generally quiet. :)