…from some viewpoints this may just look like a snapshot of an insect in a bush. And that is of course true – it is the rear view of ‘bombus terrestris’ – but in reality it represents so much more…
This innocent creature has no contemplation of the complicated world it occupies as it hastens from delicate flower to blossoming bloom – it’s feeding frenzy facilitating an orgy of cross-pollination. This tiny drone cannot see the beauty of the vessel that it drinks from or realise the important role it has in maintaining the intricate balance of the ecospherical manifestation that we call ‘life on Earth’.
It knows not the immeasurable value of the breath of wind that lightly transports it between each beautiful, fascinating engine of photosynthesis. A timeless factory that creates life from pure elements – air, water and soil. It is a miracle. A joy. A perfect moment in time and space…
Or maybe it’s just a Bumblebee’s arse.
I didn’t surf today. Too tired from surfing for the rest of the week…
More photos of naturey stuff can be found at my flickr pages.
One midsummer day I was leaning into an involved conversation with an abstract artist (of moderate fame) who, for no apparent reason, said to me in an intriguing manner…
“…you should write a book…”
The conversation was slightly fuelled by a prelunch intake of cold refreshing cider in an ancient, smoke filled country pub. So I completely ignored him and continued to pursue my line of questioning about how many pounds (sterling) per square meter he earned for his ‘artwork’. The answer (ascertained after some dubious bar napkin mathematics) was quite impressive even at that early stage of his career.
This conversation was held over 20 years ago and I’ve often returned to it in my mind. Not because I have a burning desire to communicate with the universe through the medium of the written word but because a man who hardly knew me felt he could judge my ability to put pen to paper after a few moments of listening to me rant about random nothingnesses.
He was (and still is) completely mad. But he was right about one thing; I should have written a book.
I watched a documentary the other night about the state of the blogiverse.
There are, apparently, 1.2 billion blogs out there of which 95% are ‘dead’ (ie no activity for 3 or more months). This doesn’t even take into account the non-English speaking blogs – there are also over 73 million Chinese bloggers just for starters…
So if the average blog uses up half a GB of disc space and there are 1,073,741,824 bytes in a gig (assuming the use of gigibyte being 1024 to the power of 3 and not gigabyte being 1000 cubed) and there are 95 x 100/1,200,000,000 dead blogs (English speaking only) that means that there are 1,073,741,824 x 95 x 100/2 x 1,200,000,000 bytes of forgotten information in dead blogs. Also take into account the billions of archived posts in active blogs, unread undiscarded emails, undeleted spam, really rubbish porn that nobody watches and the contents of Daddypapersurfer.com. Then that means that there is exactly and definitively quite a lot of wasted space out there.
People think that this is okay – digital information has no physical presence and can therefore do no harm to this beautiful planet of ours. But those brazillions of bytes are all taking up valuable disk space that is manufactured by tiny hands in hot countries and powered by electricity produced by ripping gaping holes through the ozone layer.
So in conclusion – to save Mother Earth and all of humanity:
You must delete all your spam.
If you have a ’sad’ porn site that nobody visits – take it down.
And, most importantly if your blog is full of rubbish that nobody reads – delete the lot. Right now. You know who you are…
A dirty dub disco mix to help you groove around the garden shed on a Sunday afternoon. You may be mending the lawnmower or planting some seed trays. Or just getting away from your husband. Sheds aren’t just for men you know…
Apologies for the occasional crackle. An unknown broken wire somewhere in the loop….
(This may be a common theme for mix titles – whatever went wrong during the process of making it.)
I don’t read many books these days - I spend such a large proportion of my spare time glued to a computer monitor that books just don’t seem to fit into my days any more.
Jaimal Yogis very kindly sent me a copy of ‘Saltwater Buddha’ to peruse and to be honest, it’s been sitting in my intray for months. I tend to ingest books rather quickly and if I don’t get to finish it all in one sitting they’ll lie dormant until they start to get woodworms moving in.
I opened up Saltwater Buddha this morning and finished it after lunch. It was good (both the midday food intake and the literary supplement).
It is Jaimal’s own story – the journey of a boy trying to find a balance between the two loves of his life – Buddha and surfing. Flitting from California to Hawaii, New York and around the world in search of the perfect wave, the perfect love and the perfect state of being. Along the way he encounters drunken Aussies, the Surf Nazis of Santa Cruz and finds a surprise guru to challenge his perceptions.
I enjoyed reading Saltwater Buddha. Both amusing and touching, it makes you consider your personal motives for surfing and your approach to other people in the water. We could all do with a bit of Buddha in our lives – especially in the water…
I’m not big on youtube posting – especially when they are the deranged rantings of my own father (these actually make me feel like I have a six foot tapeworm gnawing through my insides which is slowly digesting my liver).
However, I have posted a couple of videos that me and Tango threw together after our excursion to Sri Lanka with my old friend Huwj.
There is some surfing (of the average variety), an exceedingly stoned tuk tuk driver, a few skinny cows and a very cool monk. What more could you ask for in a road movie…?
I didn’t surf today. I did freeze my proverbials off at Baleal on Thursday. Brrr…
…this blog has been a little bit podcasty recently and not so much bloggy. Not that I mind – for me it’s a fine line (of code) betwixt the two. But for those that hate electronica and thumpy, dancey musicy stuff then a few moments of calm may be required.
Let us take a minute to ponder the rich and wonderful world that envelops our lives. The multitudinous manifestations of inspirational magnitude. Let us walk through the forest of existence, meandering the path of our destinies. Maybe touch a tree’s weathered bough. Feel the winter’s breath in our (slightly thinning) hair. Bathe in the glorious embrace of the January sunshine.
Sniff a twig on the beach.
As you can see – this is a post about nothing. It is untitled. Serving no purpose apart from its own existence. It just is. As we all should be.
I didn’t surf today. I’m slightly busy existing. Maybe I should get out more…
This is a moochy, groovy, bouncy kind of thing. Nice for doing a spot of light housework to or maybe even taking a casual saunter across a windswept park. You might meet a stranger next to the water fountain, fall in love, have seven children and call one of them Egbert.
Or not – the choice is yours…
Two things are fairly apparent upon relistening:
my needles are about as sharp as the wit at an accountants’ convention in Helsinki in the merry month of dismay and…
if I keep practicing I met get the hang of this mixing lark (eventually).
Track list:
Burning (burning hot mix) by Pépé Bradock adn the Grand Brûlés choir on Kif
Gummibjorn by Huba Buba on Black Jesus records
Sol Patrol by Summer transport on Sense records
Frogg’z Congaz (Matty & JP’s keys mix) by Romatt on Chez records
Soul doing dishes (Luke Fair mix) by Jas on Yoshiyoti recordings
Southern girls by Projections on Guidance recordings
...proudly sporting a ridiculous mini-mal I marched boldly from the surf shop. Stopping briefly to hand my spectacles to a passer-by I stumbled blindly into the sea...
