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
…as Nina Simone once said “it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life and I’m feeling somewhat flaccid and a tad bilious.”
Ever since the sinus explosion incident of 2008, the prospect of getting a head cold has been slightly more daunting than for most people – the congestion tends to crawl into parts of my body that mucus has no business being in. This of course leads to a malingering bout of malaise that inevitably involves much horizontal introspection and televisually induced cerebral cauterisation. During this recent bout of snot induced psychosis I have discovered several things about the blogiverse:
My father is obsessed with Ginger Nuts (a small, round ginger flavoured cookie found in the UK) for their crunchy, gingery goodness.
My loverly Tango likes rabbits (a small er furry rodent found in the woods) because they are cute and fuzzy.
My mother still likes my father (a small brained ginger flavoured rodent found in woods in the UK) for no reason that I can fathom. But after nearly a Brazillion years (well – 43) of being married to the old scrote, I won’t hold that against her (I’m quite fond of him really).
Conclusion: I need a large dose of Codeine, a medicinal vat of brandy and an extended lie down.
I didn’t surf today – forecast looks good for next week – might be the only way to sluice my head out…
Somebody asked me recently ‘where’s the bass line?’ (thank you Mrs O)
A salient point – there’s not enough bass lines in the world – especially those big, fat and funky ones.
Here’s one I rustled up in the toolshed – it’s mostly Cubase (with some Albino synth and Moog VST providing the squelchy bits) with a pinch of real harmonica and a smattering of ‘Shannon – Let the music play’. A classic combination best served over a delicately roasted dancefloor.
It’s just a preview and will no doubt get mauled, tweaked and rewritten a Brazillion times…
...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...
