On The Road 9 A reading in a cinema complex in Sheffield for the Off the Shelf Festival, followed by a Q & A session on contemporary poetics and related literary topics: Me: OK, one last question. Man: In a fist fight between you and Jarvis Cocker, who'd win? Me: Er . . . I've never met him, but from the pictures I've seen I'd have [...]
'It's a metaphor. And a very appropriate one. What is a policeman if not a sociologist?' Inspector Israel agreed. He stepped into the footlights for his moment of fame. 'That's true. A sociologist and a psychologist.' 'You see? Well, a permissive society like ours is bound to cause some mental confusion in your compatriots. They suddenly find they have sex and politics within easy reach.' [...]
He was called Smith and was twelve years old. Which, in itself, was a marvel; for it seemed as if the smallpox, the consumption, brain-fever, jail-fever and even the hangman's rope had given him a wide berth for fear of catching something. Or else they weren't quick enough. Smith had a turn of speed that was remarkable, and a neatness in nipping down an alley or vanishing in a court that had to be seen to be believed. Not that it was often seen, for Smith was rather a sooty [...]
Via 'Sweet FA' over at Urban 75.
Via 'Sweet FA' over at Urban 75.
"It's a peculiar thing, old-timer, but a man your age can learn something from me, although it should be the other way 'round. First I'll tell you something about me, and then I'll tell you about you." "A man can always learn something new." Stanley filled his pipe. "There's an extra pipe if you want to smoke. I don't have no cigarettes." "I don't smoke." "Smoking is a comfort to a man sometimes. [...]
I found the Mensheviks kind, intelligent, witty. But everything I saw convinced me that, face to face with the ruthlessness of history, they were wrong. - Victor Serge Mark's dissertation, in the end, was about Roman Sidorovich, 'the funny Menshevik." Lenin had called him that, menshevitskiy khakhmach , in 1911. Sidorovich was tickled, "I'd rather be menshevitskiy khakhmach " he said (to friends) "than bolshevitskiy palach ." I'd rather be the Menshevik funny-man than the Bolshevik hangman. Oops. They were [...]
I found the Mensheviks kind, intelligent, witty. But everything I saw convinced me that, face to face with the ruthlessness of history, they were wrong. - Victor Serge Mark's dissertation, in the end, was about Roman Sidorovich, 'the funny Menshevik." Lenin had called him that, menshevitskiy khakhmach , in 1911. Sidorovich was tickled, "I'd rather be menshevitskiy khakhmach " he said (to friends) "than bolshevitskiy palach ." I'd rather be the Menshevik funny-man than the Bolshevik hangman. Oops. They were [...]
March 26th 2011 Beating the Fascists: The Untold Story of Anti-Fascist Action by Sean Birchall March 28th 2012 Children of the Sun by Max Schaefer April 9th 2013 Bitter Blue by Cath Staincliffe I'm slacking. Must up the ante. eta: Just noticed that both the Birchall and the Schaefer books concern themselves with fascism.
Let us blame nostalgia. I was born in 1984, two years before Graeme Souness took over Rangers and caused a sea-change in Scottish football. Rangers were thinking big and spending big, and the rest of the Scottish league trailed in their red, white and blue wake for well over a decade. I had a phase of Rangers-supporting, which lasted from about the ages of eleven to fifteen (until I grew out of it, y'know, like proper adults should ) coming just at the end of the Nine In A Row era, when Rangers won the league year-upon-year and the [...]
I was going to have it out with the driver of the Carlton. I was going to pick him up by the armpits and say, "Oy, pus-bottom, watch where you're going." But by the time I got up off the floor and kicked the chain for tripping me up, I saw the driver wasn't in the Carlton no more. He'd gone inside the booth, and he'd left the driver's door open and his motor running. Which is exactly the same as saying, "C'Mon, Eva, here's a nice red Carlton all warm and ready to take you home." [...]
I led my new client downstairs and into the room. It was cooler in there and I switched on the convector heater, hung up our coats and offered her a drink. 'Coffee would be nice.' Her manner softened a little. 'Just milk please.' 'I forgot to ask you on the phone, how did you hear about me?' It's useful to find out how clients arrive. 'Yellow Pages, you were the nearest to me.' [...]
Nothing to see here. Move along . I'm afraid I wont be gloating over the death of someone in their eighties. Hated her government and all that she stood for . . . and she certainly doesn't merit a state funeral . . . but the bastards are still in charge.
Inveresk Street Ingrate
NSFW: Miley Cyrus shows off her BANGIN TANKINI BOD!
Doldrums - "Holographic Sandcastles"
Daft Punk – Random Access Memories
A Little Something For Everyone At EDC New York
