Now, I don't normally go in for all that 'hippy-dippy' shit (it's mostly a loads of baws) but when my flatmate went for a float a month or so ago, he said it was fuckin' awesome, and that was good enough for me. I turned up at Floatworks at 12.30 today feeling unusually nervous (it was probably a combination of the fear of the unknown, the heavy breakcore in my CD player and London 'Motherfuckin' Fuckers' Transport - how I loathe the Underground), and was invited to take my shoes off, don a pair of plastic flip-flops, take a seat and fill in some forms. Jeesus, fuckin' flip-flops - this was more hippy-ish than I was expecting.
The forms were just your standard affair, but there was a nice wee bit informing you not to be fucked up on drink or drugs. No no, for today you will be experiencing 'pure' alteration of your consciousness, so you don't wanna be half-cocked already. They gave me a wee booklet to read, and also a menu. 'A menu for what?' you may ask - a menu for....the music! They play music for the first 10 minutes, to ease you into the whole thing, and you get to choose which dreamy, trancey, ambient dirge gets piped into your pod. I only mention this because one of the tracks had, and I shit you not, 'Suitable for vegetarians and vegans', written next it. What the fuck?! I seriously couldn't work out if this was a joke or not. Maybe all the other tracks were made by banging the skulls of minks together while stamping on a pig, I really wouldn't want to hazard a guess.
Okay, onto the float itself. The 'pod' that you get into looks like a Fisher Price version of the thing Neo wakes up in, after being expelled from the Matrix. You get in to the, really quite shallow, water, lie down, press a few buttons to shut the door and turn off the light, and then that's you stuck with nothing but yourself for company for the next hour. The water is jam-packed with salts 'n' shit, so the way you float on the surface is really cool; the water and air are kept at body temperature, so it's hard to know where one ends and the other begins; it's completely silent - the only thing you can hear is the sound of the blood pulsing through your body and and your own, slightly alien sounding, breathing; it feels much more spacious than it actually is - a few times I totally got lost and didn't know what way I was orientated.
Lying there felt a bit like trying to fall asleep - there were random thoughts whizzing about my brain for what felt like hours, but when that subsided (I may actually have fell asleep for a few minutes, it was hard to tell) I started to really enjoy it. I didn't experience any visions, but I'm sure there were a few auditory hallucinations - voices and stuff, which is pretty cool. It makes your body feel really weird, because you feel like you're floating in nothingness - it totally fixed a lot of wee niggling things I had going on, and my fucked back feels a lot better (though hunching over this computer to write this is possibly negating that).
When the hour was up I got up out of the tub and showered all the shit off me, got dressed, paid the nice people, then wandered out into the cold London afternoon, feeling kind of odd. The only way I can describe it is.....well, it was like an 'anti-hangover'. You know that way when you have a slight hangover and everything just feels shit and a bit wrong? Well this was the opposite of that - things just felt right. Maybe it's 'cos it's the first time I've been truly relaxed in years - I mean how often can a 21st Century Westerner really say they just went an hour with absolutely no stimuli whatsoever?
I wandered along the South Bank, Joanna Newsom on the headphones, knowing smirk on the face. A train went by me on the bridge, it had 'Jim is bent' scrawled on it in foot high letters. All was good and right in the world. I still feel kinda peachy right now.
(Oh, and 'No' - I didn't piss in the floatation tank)
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Bricking Swans For World Peace
I'm on a total 'Swan Hate' at the moment. I don't know what it is about them, but I just don't see them as the beautiful 'True Love Forever' animals that everyone else does. To me they're just the arrogant fucks of the bird kingdom.
They don't even make sounds like a proper bird, with all that hissing and cackling - it's like someone decapitated a bird, then stapled a feathery snake onto the body, in place of the head and neck. And that thing about them being able to break a human arm with their beak? What the fuck is that all about? Is that even true? Let me tell you, the fucker wouldn't get the chance. He'd have his neck broken with a well aimed brick from 30 yards. So yeah, fuck 'em.
By Christ did I see a film at the weekend! Team America : World Police....it was imense. At first it's a bit goofy, but funny in an 'oh look, it's puppets swearing' kinda way, but once that wears off you get right into it. The songs are magic, especially the one where they basically just rip the piss out of Pearl Harbour; and the range of emotion they get from the puppets' faces is remarkeable. It's also good to see both the American Left and Right getting the fuck ripped out of them. Go see it, FUCK YEAH!
Tomorrow I'm going for a shot in a floatation tank. Will it be a transendental experience, will it be boring, will I fall asleep, are you allowed to pee in the tanks? The answers to these and other questions coming tomorrow (or possibly later).
They don't even make sounds like a proper bird, with all that hissing and cackling - it's like someone decapitated a bird, then stapled a feathery snake onto the body, in place of the head and neck. And that thing about them being able to break a human arm with their beak? What the fuck is that all about? Is that even true? Let me tell you, the fucker wouldn't get the chance. He'd have his neck broken with a well aimed brick from 30 yards. So yeah, fuck 'em.
By Christ did I see a film at the weekend! Team America : World Police....it was imense. At first it's a bit goofy, but funny in an 'oh look, it's puppets swearing' kinda way, but once that wears off you get right into it. The songs are magic, especially the one where they basically just rip the piss out of Pearl Harbour; and the range of emotion they get from the puppets' faces is remarkeable. It's also good to see both the American Left and Right getting the fuck ripped out of them. Go see it, FUCK YEAH!
Tomorrow I'm going for a shot in a floatation tank. Will it be a transendental experience, will it be boring, will I fall asleep, are you allowed to pee in the tanks? The answers to these and other questions coming tomorrow (or possibly later).
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Diane, I have in my hand a small box of chocolate bunnies
Holy fuckin' shit, that took a lot longer than I thought. After an hour of cutting up tape, lining up bits of paper and the over-misuse of colourful curse words - the massive Rasterbation is UP. Ho ho, it's a fucking belter, I swear to Christ. But before we get to that, let's look at the lengthy, and particularly uninteresting process I went through before I even started putting it up.
The other day I decided I was going to use the cool picture of Johhny Depp in 'Fear and Loathing'. I ran it through the Rasterbator and... well, after printing it out it looked like this:
...look at him, watching over the sitting room like some iron willed god. 'That's damn fine coffee', he seems to playfully say, while fixing you, paradoxically, with the cold dead eyes of a veteran FBI Agent. I wish that photo turned out better, but alas - I canny get it to look decent. Remember that bit in the first series of Twin Peaks when he walks by the llama? The look they give one another still sends me into apoplexy.
So, with that one in place I decided to pay homage to one of my favourite trash films of all time - The Boondock Saints. If you haven't seen it you should check it out - it's a cool wee piece of brain candy, and has enough random violence in it to keep even the most desensitized bastard interested. They're like Irish Punishers! These bad boys now reside in space above my bedroom door:
OK, I know they don't look too hot in this photo, but in real life they look fuckin' badass. You have to walk under their silenced pistols and menacing gaze to walk out of my room.
Now, on to the main event. I've been on a bit of a David Lynch trip recently, watching Twin Peaks, watching the films, downloading music from said films, etc. so I thought 'Fuck it, it really should be Mulholland Drive'. My favourite image that I could find from the film is this beauty:
...it's absolutely perfect; it has the right contrast, it's iconic, it's the fuckin' shit. And when printed out onto 32 pieces of A4 and carefully tacked up on the wall above my bed it looks like this (click it to see it bigger):
...sweet fancy fuckin' Moses, is that not a thing of beauty? It's glorious, it truly is. It completely dominates my entire bedroom. Christ, I feel like fuckin' 'King of the Pimps', all I need now is a mirror over my bed.
The other day I decided I was going to use the cool picture of Johhny Depp in 'Fear and Loathing'. I ran it through the Rasterbator and... well, after printing it out it looked like this:
This, while pretty cool, wasn't exactly what I was looking for - so up on the wall it did not go. I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do with the 21 sheets of A4 that this baby used up. I imagine they'll be used by Drunk Me to scrawl messages to Sober Me, to remember to buy milk or some shit.
I decided to piss about and waste some more ink by putting Agent Cooper from Twin Peaks above the kitchen door:
...look at him, watching over the sitting room like some iron willed god. 'That's damn fine coffee', he seems to playfully say, while fixing you, paradoxically, with the cold dead eyes of a veteran FBI Agent. I wish that photo turned out better, but alas - I canny get it to look decent. Remember that bit in the first series of Twin Peaks when he walks by the llama? The look they give one another still sends me into apoplexy.
So, with that one in place I decided to pay homage to one of my favourite trash films of all time - The Boondock Saints. If you haven't seen it you should check it out - it's a cool wee piece of brain candy, and has enough random violence in it to keep even the most desensitized bastard interested. They're like Irish Punishers! These bad boys now reside in space above my bedroom door:
OK, I know they don't look too hot in this photo, but in real life they look fuckin' badass. You have to walk under their silenced pistols and menacing gaze to walk out of my room.
Now, on to the main event. I've been on a bit of a David Lynch trip recently, watching Twin Peaks, watching the films, downloading music from said films, etc. so I thought 'Fuck it, it really should be Mulholland Drive'. My favourite image that I could find from the film is this beauty:
...it's absolutely perfect; it has the right contrast, it's iconic, it's the fuckin' shit. And when printed out onto 32 pieces of A4 and carefully tacked up on the wall above my bed it looks like this (click it to see it bigger):
...sweet fancy fuckin' Moses, is that not a thing of beauty? It's glorious, it truly is. It completely dominates my entire bedroom. Christ, I feel like fuckin' 'King of the Pimps', all I need now is a mirror over my bed.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Don't take any guff from these fucking swine
So, I spent the vast majority of the weekend completely pissed off my face. How thoroughly depressing. I did manage to play a load of Burnout 3 on the PS2 with my flatmate, though. Virtual drunk driving is a truly great invention of modern man, it's so much fun it's bordering on the illegal.
I also squeezed in a wee walk to Portobello Market, where I bought a small selection of tat, and a couple of decent CDs from Rough Trade. Due to the aforementioned drunkeness, the CDs aren't even out of their cellophane. On the walk back we found a framed Full Metal Jacket poster that someone had thrown out. I thought, 'fuck it, I'll have that'. So I did.
It has caused me to rethink the decor in my room. I'm gonna do a big fuck-off rasterized image to put up over my bed. This is the best website to use if you wanna do one yourself - Rasterbator. I swear to God, it's the fuckin' shit. The only thing is, I dunno what picture to use. At the moment, I think it's gonna be this one...
...but I'm not sure if there's enough contrast going on for it to look cool. Though, how could that fuckin' Gonzo maniac not look cool, eh? Hmm, I'll just have to try it and see how it looks.
Anyways, expect an update, WITH MOTHERFUCKIN' PHOTOS, once I've got it all done and up on my wall.
Laters
I also squeezed in a wee walk to Portobello Market, where I bought a small selection of tat, and a couple of decent CDs from Rough Trade. Due to the aforementioned drunkeness, the CDs aren't even out of their cellophane. On the walk back we found a framed Full Metal Jacket poster that someone had thrown out. I thought, 'fuck it, I'll have that'. So I did.
It has caused me to rethink the decor in my room. I'm gonna do a big fuck-off rasterized image to put up over my bed. This is the best website to use if you wanna do one yourself - Rasterbator. I swear to God, it's the fuckin' shit. The only thing is, I dunno what picture to use. At the moment, I think it's gonna be this one...
...but I'm not sure if there's enough contrast going on for it to look cool. Though, how could that fuckin' Gonzo maniac not look cool, eh? Hmm, I'll just have to try it and see how it looks.
Anyways, expect an update, WITH MOTHERFUCKIN' PHOTOS, once I've got it all done and up on my wall.
Laters
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Soft, like a velvet child
Following on from yesterday (and in more ways than one - fuck me in the face with a Biro, I might actually be building some sort of narrative structure here), I thought I'd draw your attention to the video for 'Soulwax - E-Talking'. 
It's a clever wee video and the song's pretty cool too, though I think they start to lose it towards the end (the video I mean, not the song). I mean, since when did anyone really consider whiskey to be a drug? Though, come to think of it I'd be hard-pressed to come up with a narcotic beginning with 'W'. Actually, no - fuck it, that's easy - Wormwood, as contained in Absinthe. There's yer drug beginning with 'W' (which is still, technically alcohol). The video was filmed in Fabric, and I was actually in the DJ booth that Soulwax are seen DJ'ing in, with paper bags on their heads. Not that I was actually doing anything productive when I was there, no, because I am a talentless fuck when it comes to music. I was mostly getting in the way.
Right-o - onto the video. You can view it here.
Enjoy.
It's a clever wee video and the song's pretty cool too, though I think they start to lose it towards the end (the video I mean, not the song). I mean, since when did anyone really consider whiskey to be a drug? Though, come to think of it I'd be hard-pressed to come up with a narcotic beginning with 'W'. Actually, no - fuck it, that's easy - Wormwood, as contained in Absinthe. There's yer drug beginning with 'W' (which is still, technically alcohol). The video was filmed in Fabric, and I was actually in the DJ booth that Soulwax are seen DJ'ing in, with paper bags on their heads. Not that I was actually doing anything productive when I was there, no, because I am a talentless fuck when it comes to music. I was mostly getting in the way.
Right-o - onto the video. You can view it here.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Embrace the Infinite
Well that was a pretty hectic weekend. On Saturday I did fuck all, 'cept sit in the flat and drink Grolsch/use the 'net. I gave that 'Jerry Springer - Opera' a swatch, just to see what all those demented fuckwits were getting themselves in a tizzy over. It was quite funny and had some decent songs, but it wasn't groundbreaking. Or maybe it was, I've never really seen an opera before, modern or otherwise. David Soul was cracking as Jerry, he was quite uncanny in his depiction.
On Sunday I was guestlisted for Fabric. It's the first time I've been there (first time I've been anywhere near Farringdon, too), and it was a fucking monster of a night. The sound system in the place is fuckin' immense, you could hear every little nuance of the music. What was supposed to be a 'quiet' night got slightly out of control - I ended up, off my champer, sitting in some wee tea bar at 5.30am, drinking scolding hot tea with a bunch of randoms from Chelmseford. Oh, and we nearly died on the way home. The taxi fucked right into a bag of bricks on the A40 and we were nearly mangled on the crash barrier. After we came to a standstill, we made our excuses, then got the fuck outta there and onto the Tube. All in all, a good night.
And that's the end of this 'Dear Diary' moment. I'll try and have something important/funny to say tomorrow when I've fully recovered from this ungodly *hangover*.
[Oh, if you don't have it yet I strongly advise going here and downloading 'Daft Punk is Playing At My House (Soulwax Shibuya Remix)'. It's fuckin' awesome and kicks the balls off the original. Oh aye, try and find 'Soulwax - E-Talking (Soulwax Nite Version feat. Nancy Whang)' , too. I would find it for you, but I'm not your bitch - one track is all your getting.]
On Sunday I was guestlisted for Fabric. It's the first time I've been there (first time I've been anywhere near Farringdon, too), and it was a fucking monster of a night. The sound system in the place is fuckin' immense, you could hear every little nuance of the music. What was supposed to be a 'quiet' night got slightly out of control - I ended up, off my champer, sitting in some wee tea bar at 5.30am, drinking scolding hot tea with a bunch of randoms from Chelmseford. Oh, and we nearly died on the way home. The taxi fucked right into a bag of bricks on the A40 and we were nearly mangled on the crash barrier. After we came to a standstill, we made our excuses, then got the fuck outta there and onto the Tube. All in all, a good night.
And that's the end of this 'Dear Diary' moment. I'll try and have something important/funny to say tomorrow when I've fully recovered from this ungodly *hangover*.
[Oh, if you don't have it yet I strongly advise going here and downloading 'Daft Punk is Playing At My House (Soulwax Shibuya Remix)'. It's fuckin' awesome and kicks the balls off the original. Oh aye, try and find 'Soulwax - E-Talking (Soulwax Nite Version feat. Nancy Whang)' , too. I would find it for you, but I'm not your bitch - one track is all your getting.]
Friday, January 07, 2005
'PANDACORE' or 'Panda Corps'?
I don't care what people say about Banksy, I fuckin' love him. Seeing a wee bit of his art as I'm walking down the street really brightens up my day.
Buy his new book. In fact, fuck it - buy all his books. If it wasn't for him, Britain (and in particular, London [and in particular, Shoreditch]) would be even more of a soulless grey fuck-up of a place. If it wasn't for him you'd be even more aware that the place is inhabited by brain-dead robots and cunts. If it wasn't for him you wouldn't be able to giggle like a girl at the drawing of the cute wittle wabbit on the wall. Aw look at his itty-bitty bomb, he's wuvvely.
Right, that's enough of that. I haven't bought nearly as many CDs as I'd have liked this year (due to the whole 'moving-to-London' thing) and I know I've left a lot of decent ones I bought recently back in Glasgow, but that isn't gonna stop me inflicting this on you:
Music made in 2004 that was good and that I bought
I have no idea why I choose to write these things on Amazon. I'm such a corporate sell-out. Oo oo, here's last year's, in case you missed it. It was far better.
Laters
Buy his new book. In fact, fuck it - buy all his books. If it wasn't for him, Britain (and in particular, London [and in particular, Shoreditch]) would be even more of a soulless grey fuck-up of a place. If it wasn't for him you'd be even more aware that the place is inhabited by brain-dead robots and cunts. If it wasn't for him you wouldn't be able to giggle like a girl at the drawing of the cute wittle wabbit on the wall. Aw look at his itty-bitty bomb, he's wuvvely.
Right, that's enough of that. I haven't bought nearly as many CDs as I'd have liked this year (due to the whole 'moving-to-London' thing) and I know I've left a lot of decent ones I bought recently back in Glasgow, but that isn't gonna stop me inflicting this on you:
Music made in 2004 that was good and that I bought
I have no idea why I choose to write these things on Amazon. I'm such a corporate sell-out. Oo oo, here's last year's, in case you missed it. It was far better.
Laters
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Shoelace Tension Discrepancy - The Facts
You know what it's like, you're rushing out to meet someone, just about to cross the threshold and leave the house, when you realise you have no shoes on. So, you throw on your favourite trainers, tie the laces, then bound out the front door like a giddy schoolchild. It's only when you're halfway down to the train station that you realise something ain't right. Your feet don't feel symmetrical, with every step you feel a nagging unease. Fuck - one of the laces is tighter than the other. You stop, loosen off the shoe then re-tie it. A few steps later you it's becoming apparent you've made things worse. Try as hard as you can, but no amount of tweaking or fine tuning can get both your shoes in sync, and it'll be smouldering away at the back of your mind for as long as have the shoes on, cutting into your soul like a big sharp thing.
Shoelace Tension Discrepancy (STenD), folks - that's what's happening here. It's been the scourge of humanity since primitive man first invented mammoth skin shoes. Wars have been started because of it (Hitler was a chronic sufferer), husbands have murdered wives and children over it (the infamous 'Mammett Sneaker Murders' in Wisconsin in 1977) and it almost caused a fatal error in judgement during the 1969 moon landing. Looking at this graph:
...we see that not only is STenD becoming more common over the years (as society's attention span becomes so degraded, few people can tie their shoelaces properly first time), but that the instances of it are becoming far more devastating for sufferers. Since 1998 'Lace Rage' has risen by 38%; UK businesses are losing over 16 million working days a year due to employees constantly fiddling with their laces; children's development is suffering because of their increased irritation when learning to tie their laces. If something isn't done soon, the human race is well and truly fucked.
But what can we do? There are several schools of thought on the matter, here I'll show you 3 of the most popular:
1.Velcro - velcro suffers from similar problems to laces, but these can be remedied far more easily due to the nature of the 'hook & eye' mechanism. The downside? Most velcro shoes look like a pile of shite.
2.Leave the laces tied all the time - this is the most popular approach. Unfortunately it can lead to the inside back of the trainer getting fucked up, due to the strain put on it when moving the foot in and out of the shoe.
3.Alcohol - this is my preferred method. When you go out, if you notice you are suffering from STenD, get yourself to the pub for a few pints. Soon you'll barely even notice you're wearing shoes, never mind that there's a problem with them.
Hopefully you have found this information useful, and if you're one of the 3 billion people worldwide who suffer in silence from STenD, you'll know you're not alone. Far from it.
With a little understanding, together we can beat this menace.
Doctor Marc'o van Bastard SCD, ESS
Professor of Lace Mechanics and Aglets, Clydebank University
Monday, January 03, 2005
Londoners don't know jack-shit about Hogmanay
Hello again Internets people. Do you know what I seen in Tesco this morning? Fucking mini-eggs, shitloads of them - piled up in the impulse buy bit, just in front of the registers. I mean, for fuck's sake, we've only just recovered (or not quite) from New Year and they're already pushing Easter on us. What the fuck? This has to be some sort of record.
Talking of New Year, how was it for you? Did you go to some shitty party and get depressingly drunk? I'll bet you did. My body's still reeling after the shitstorm of abuse I subjected it to over the weekend. The Hoxton Pimps night was pretty fucking cool. It started off in appalling fashion as no one seemd to know what the fuck was going on - it was wall-to-wall bawbag as people were jockeying for dance floor position and fighting like crack-addled hobos to get a drink. The bells came and went with very little fanfare - WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH LONDON PEOPLE? After midnight everything calmed down and it turned into a very respectable wee night. We were proper fucked, and continued it on throughout Saturday, too. All in all - good, but it really didn't feel like a Hogmanay night due to the lacklustre, 'I'm too fuckin' cool to jump about like a loon at the bells' attitude of the Hoxtonites.
I'm paying for it all now, though, with a cold/sore throat combo on it's way. Fuck-a-doodle-doo.
Talking of New Year, how was it for you? Did you go to some shitty party and get depressingly drunk? I'll bet you did. My body's still reeling after the shitstorm of abuse I subjected it to over the weekend. The Hoxton Pimps night was pretty fucking cool. It started off in appalling fashion as no one seemd to know what the fuck was going on - it was wall-to-wall bawbag as people were jockeying for dance floor position and fighting like crack-addled hobos to get a drink. The bells came and went with very little fanfare - WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH LONDON PEOPLE? After midnight everything calmed down and it turned into a very respectable wee night. We were proper fucked, and continued it on throughout Saturday, too. All in all - good, but it really didn't feel like a Hogmanay night due to the lacklustre, 'I'm too fuckin' cool to jump about like a loon at the bells' attitude of the Hoxtonites.
I'm paying for it all now, though, with a cold/sore throat combo on it's way. Fuck-a-doodle-doo.
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