S D Grimshaw

I can't help but feel that Muse have done something odd

With huge global success often comes a certain degradation of initial purpose. Now, I’m not claiming that Muse even had an initial purpose, but listening to their first two albums - and to a certain extent, their third - I felt a real volition behind their music. An energy. Showbiz and Origin of Symmetry were charged with it. By Absolution this energy had waned somewhat but it was still evident on certain tracks. Now we are seeing the Black Holes and Revelations/The Resistance era, this energy has transformed into something else.

I say transformed in order to adhere to the laws of physics, politeness and whatever strange set of values the band themselves hold. I know that the frontman Matt Bellamy has an interest in the structure of the universe, or I assume so because of his (many, many) songs that deal with such subject matter. But back to topic, the force that drives Muse is now not that of vigour and youth, it is of maturity and a higher conception of what it is to make noises with bits of wood, metal and plastic. I suppose this maturity comes along with the progression these musicians’ own bodies are making through time; that strange thing we call ‘aging’.

What is interesting is that Muse seem not to have altered their style in order to better market their music, they’ve just gone and done whatever they want. This may seem arrogant, but I’d rather see it as a supreme disregard for the need that many acts feel to roll with the times. I know it’s nothing new to sing about global politics, but what I feel is new - or at least insane enough to warrant special regard - is the idea of a “United States of Eurasia”.

How could that ever work? It’s a beautiful idea though, and beauty is of paramount importance to a great deal of what we call art.

I started this post intending to slate Muse for getting old, but I’ve talked myself round to at least accepting that no one can stay young forever. All we can do is grow old dreaming of a cozy armchair, regular visits from friends and multi-national superstates.

mills:

Bear hunter on Kodiak Archipelago, May 11, 1957 (via).

I’m too astonished by the sheer size of that bear head to not reblog this.

iPhone for sale (original, 8GB, used) - £120

Want an iPhone at a half decent price? Looked in all the shops that claim to sell them “cheap” and been dissatisfied? Well look no further, because Sam is selling his for a mere £120 pounds.

Handset itself is in moderate condition, 18 months of use doesn’t come without its share of scrapes and knocks, but the thing works perfectly and comes with all the latest firmware. But wait you say, £120 for a second hand phone isn’t exactly a great deal? Au contrair mon ami, I am also giving you an O2 SIM card that comes with 12 months of FREE data usage! Yes, that’s 12 months of Free data usage! The SIM can be topped up like any other Pay & Go card, so all you need to do is put some cash on it and you have a phone with unlimited Edge and GPRS access for a year.

Even if you don’t fancy swapping your old phone out for this one, you can always just use it as an iPod that has internet access. What a sweet deal eh!

Comes with charger, original packaging and all that jazz.

Anyway I think I just used up my enthusiasm quota for the day so contact me if you’re interested. Ciao.

This is a carving found on Ilkley moor, dubbed the Swastika Stone. Evidently that moniker has struck a chord with some local Nazis and they have paid tribute to it using some crude carving implement of their own.

Crappy graffiti aside though, the rock and carving is situated in a really beautiful place. Overlooking a huge valley, it’s not difficult to see why whoever it was chose that spot for his tag.

I’m assuming it’s a tag because a) I like making crap jokes and b) I haven’t bothered to look into the symbology of the Swastika in Celtic culture. I’m sure a tiny bit of Wikipedia work would lead me to some enlightening information, hold on a second, I’ll do that now.

“In many ancient civilizations the swastika is recognized as a symbol relating to the sun. UK children’s author Terry Deary has suggested the carving depicts a boomerang.”

Either of these explanations are acceptable to me.

Anaphylaxis and the decreased sympathy I have for drowning arachnids

I ate a very small piece of naan bread last night. It made my throat swell up and my stomach churn, before spreading its poison through my blood to my skin. Poison I say? Yes, poison! For this was no ordinary naan, this had  been cooked in almond oil, to which I am at least a little bit allergic.

It was a nasty experience, I’d forgotten how disgusting anaphylaxis makes you feel. All your cells going crazy trying to fight off something that isn’t really a poison at all. Damn stupid affliction I’ve been cursed with but what am I to do about it? Maybe get one of these Medicalert trinkets, or carry around my epipens more often. Either of those options would be better than the failsafe I currently use: crossing my fingers and hoping I come out alive.

Anyway, during my recuperation period (twenty or so hours of slowly dying down aches, wheezes, spluttering and redness around joints) I took a shower. On the ceiling of my shower was a tiny spider and I took the liberty of extracting him (or her) from the shower with a book. Once I’d done this however, I found myself dripping wet, holding a book with a spider crawling all over it. Losing patience with the universe, I flicked the spider off into the toilet bowl. Now, let it be known that normally I try to preserve lives like this but on this occasion I was not feeling compassionate enough.

Hanging on to the edge of the toilet bowl, the spider fought courageously against me as I blew it from its perch to the watery fate below. As it made its speedy descent to the water, it curled up into a ball very quickly, but once actually in the water its legs unfolded and blow me, it floated. Most intriguingly it kept two of its forelegs elevated above the water level, presumably intending to grab onto the nearest bit of floating jetsam that would be found in most non-synthetic pools of water. Feeling a bit guilty, I left it to its own devices while I showered, then flushed it later on. Sorry spider.

locomotivehootenanny:

There was a point in my life where I would pretend I was the pied piper of imaginary dinosaurs. These days, I’d settle on deer.

And finally, in our time a beard is the one thing a woman cannot do better than a man, or if she can her success is assured only in a circus.

— John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley. I’m really enjoying this book. Clever observational humor is in short supply in this, the That’s What She Said Era. (via locomotivehootenanny)

How the hell do you aim your CV at hearse driving?

— Iain Cannell

tomwb:

100 words on:

Inglourious Basterds follows an American ‘revenge’ squad of Jewish soldiers across 1940s France as they scalp every Nazi they find. Apologies for the gross simplification, I’m keeping it brief.

A brilliant cast and some strikingly bold character stereotypes give an air of absurdity that’s (surprisingly) rare in cinema. Visceral violence, liberal comedy and Tarantino’s trademark timing fling you from tragedy to action like you’re being swung by the balls. And Christ, the music!

The closing scenes make you realise: this is Tarantino’s answer to Nazi Germany’s own Film-Politik. Pulp, Kung-Fu, Grindhouse - now Tarantino’s tried his hand at Propaganda.

Inglourious Basterds trailers

I can add nothing to this.

Much beauty begins as consolation for what can’t be mended.

— 

Clive James.

Via Mills.