The best writer since sliced bread

The subtleties of language

I read in the paper, that pompous old curmudgeon Kingsley Amis in his book 'The King's English', bemoaned how illiterate the world had become that he was having to devote a chapter to the difference between 'he might' and 'he may',

I had to think about this and without having had an extensive education in English grammar (comprehensive education - in the UK sense) I had to think about the context and tone of the two phrases. 

If you think about a rich boy and a poor boy, the rich boy may get in to Oxford, but the poor boy might if he tries hard enough. 

Or you ask your uncle if he has a non-percussive drill bit. If he's a DIY enthusiast he may just have one. If he only dabbles now and again he might have one.

'May' is just the higher likelihood.

That's it. 

Aural hallucinations 

I always put on ambient music from the Calm app when I go to bed. I have to have absolute darkness as well, so I wear a silk eye-mask which every time I wake (at least once every night for a pee) is around my neck.

But I've recently been hearing music in white noise, and the other night just as I was dozing off a trumpet fanfare. 

Bear in mind this was at 1am and despite it coming from the music room - and we do possess a trumpet - no one was minded play it at that time.

Luckily it only lasted a second, but it was a little startling.

Coupled with my slight visual hallucinations of white objects in my peripheral vision suddenly pinging into existence like a like they've just been switched on, this must be a taste of things to come.         

Pilton psychos

I just spent 2 days Dming in Pilton for the older kids. It was good fun, but as usual utterly exhausting. I realised on Thursday that the adventure I'd hoped would last the 2 days was almost complete, so I spent another couple of hours on Thursday evening setting up a concluding part. 

It was a bit of an obvious adjunct to the first part but their parents had paid for the time so that was all that was important. 

The whole premise was the party had met up as the only non-goblins at an ancient citadel. One of the party had found a large oval crystal on a dead goblin. They fled the citadel with the goblins in pursuit, fleeing into a valley. But the goblins eventually caught up with them and a battle ensued, ending with a stray arrow hitting a hornets' next and scattering the gobbos.

The main part of the quest was a whodunnit as 2 warring families in a vibrant market each accuse the other of sabotaging their respective businesses. 

Initially the traders were reluctant to talk to strangers, so the party had to endear themselves to the locals by taking part in 'It's a Knockout'-style games, and the locals would more readily impart clues that would lead the party to come to a conclusion.

The lad to my left was getting frustrated as he just wanted his character to kill everything then set fire to what was left, so for the last part on Friday I put in a ton of extreme violence to satisfy him. 

We were like that at his age too, and look how well we turned out!

Kids, eh?

I guess this is how writers of sagas set things up - have a bunch of threads which you don't know initially where they’re going to go, but which you can work out later. 

It's better to have unresolved threads which can become plot-hooks, than none at all.

Not having them means you have to start again with a brand new adventure each time. 

3 days later and I'm still absolutely wiped out by this 2 day session.  

What I'm reading

Earth to Moon - by Moon Unit Zappa. Autobiographical tale of growing up in a counter-culture family with a workaholic artist for a father and a long-suffering wife for a mother. 

I'd read the real frank Zappa Book which was pretty dissatisfying. This is far more honest and thorough as to how Frank’s behaviour affected his family. For instance, he would sometimes return from long tours with a groupie to sleep with - leaving his wife Gail upstairs to sleep on her own. Nice. 

Then he’d be in his recording studio in the basement for the rest of the time, sleeping during the day.

So we see the flip side of the artist - the solipsistic, narcissistic, self-indulgent, tyrant. The art comes first; everything else is secondary. The genius must be tapped.

The parents would wander round naked, and shout at each other, there were murals of orgies the kids hated and all the while her mother got increasingly frustrated and angry.

All Moon wanted was to spend time with her dad and get a hug from her mum, which were never forthcoming.

Moon writes brilliantly and I'd give it an 8/10.

I'm also reading another autobiography, this time by Adrian Edmondson, called 'Berserker.' It's supposed to be funny but having been a fan of Rik and Ade back in the day, the humour feels so familiar that I feel I've heard all these jokes before. 

I'll plod on with it as I'm still at the beginning.

What I'm watching

I was watching multiple YouTube videos on politics, but it's just an endless loop of the same shit. 

So then I started watching interviews with the very out-there maverick film makers I really like - David Lynch, Russ Meyer, John Waters and Werner Herzog.

Great Russ Meyer montage from Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, but may be a bit rude for Alison...

Waters and Herzog are just brilliant speakers and I could listen to them for days. I do a pretty good Werner Herzog impression. He is a one-off and his early works like The Enigma of Caspar Hauser are like a Bruegel painting come to life. He doesn't make films like other people. His documentaries are also wonderful.

John Waters is a great raconteur and there are a ton of interviews on YouTube which are hilarious. The 'Pope of Trash' started off making films with all his misfit friends in the late 60s and ended up making Hairspray (the original - not the musical), Cry Baby and Serial Mom - the latter which I've never seen. 

Herzog shares a joke with his leading man

It's nice to see people like this succeed, especially when cinema is dominated by the likes of James Cameron and Michael Bay🤮.

I've also watched Silo season 2 on Apple TV which is terrific. And I'm currently rewatching the totally unique Severance, created by Ben Stiller, in preparation for season 2 which premiers on January 17th.

The most original programme in years

Plans for 2025

The usual: drink less, exercise more, go to the cinema, theatre and take some walks in the country. 

What's more important than the above is to improve my rather crap social life by visiting friends.

So ideally all of the above but with an emphasis on getting out and about - which is precisely what Frontotemporal Dementia (FTD) prevents you from doing! The old executive functions being offline and all that.

I shall have to battle forth and keep going.

VERDICT: Must try harder!

Surfing the waves of dementia

 A couple of days of mehhh...

It's been a tough last few days. Feeling a little down, lethargic, uninspired - which is unusual. 

Fed up of Wells, bored mainly. Missing London, dogs, gamers, non-gamers etc.

Wake up tired. Realise when I'm walking Tomos that I don't want to talk to other people today. People witter on as they're walking, like a result of some anxiety disorder. 

Some feel they have to fill every calming second of silence with something else that's gone wrong with them, all the while the pitch of their voice sounding like a deranged homeless playing a cornet that's been pulled out of a skip.

I have to turn away and get distance between us - at least 20-30 feet.

If I come across as rude then so be it. I just can't be doing with you today and the dissonant word salad that you're puking at me. And it's bright enough as it is. Too bright even.

This is way too much sensory information.

So leave me alone in my cave, on the increasingly creaky floorboards (must have them checked out actually) while I wile my life away on YouTube and my obsession with Trump, MAGA, rugby, and martial arts.

When I go out my trusty Sony XM4s are often on - muffling the audible world. Dark glasses or a welding mask would help, but they're further down the line.

I can feel myself being irritated with everyone. I have to remind myself that I'm ill and not in a great place currently - that it's the illness that's making me feel this way, and I need to create some space between me and it.

Sunday I went out today with Nerys and her friend Pip and their dogs. It was nice. But I'm finding it difficult to converse with people if it's something I haven't been briefed on.

I can feel myself becoming more detached from everything. 

The fog is becoming thicker, as am I.

Why doesn't everyone like TTRPGs, Louis Cole and rugby league? The world would be a much better place. And much easier for me.

Dim Watchio

I ran out of things to watch on Netflix, iPlayer and Prime, so I've renewed my subscription to Apple TV and there are some quality things back on there. 

I’m currently watching For All Mankind: an alternative history to the Apollo space project, where the USSR beat the USA to put a man on the moon. It’s actually done really well and you should watch it. But it does have some soap opera moments which if you're into sci-fi are a bit of an irrelevance. 

I fast forward through those bits.

Fall Out comes to Prime, based on the video game. It does look really good, but the gamers hate it already.

Some good looking films coming out too. Late Night with the Devil looks right up my strasse. 

Should go and see Dune 2 which is out now. But I won't. Because I'm rubbish.

Man at the bar, he say...

Man at the bar slightly right wing of Ayn Rand. Starts ranting at the 18 year old behind the bar as though she is in a position to challenge his bilge.

Blah blah... flat 10 percent tax, abolish the NHS, abolish state everything within time - within time! - and everyone pays into their own pension and health insurance...

Wow.

Flat rates. I remember them when I worked for Chorion. 

"Everyone is getting the same: a 10% bonus."

So the CEO gets a bonus of £23,500 and the receptionist a bonus of £2,500. 

Fair...my arse.

Of course it's not 'fair' or 'the same'!

Put into practice, the twat at the bar's economic theory would create social disparity on a scale we haven't seen since the late 18th century. Cue tent cities and riots like we haven't seen since the Poll Tax.

And plutocrats like him would be the first to blame the poor, the homeless and immigrants.

It’s the kind of nonsense hard right fanatics in the Tory party have talked about since the 1980s. 

Looks like certain nutters are still doing it. 

Next time I might join in. That'll be a whole post on its own!

He was like an octopus!

Looking after Tomos, who was like a 14 year old boy alone with his girlfriend. 

I was that girlfriend. I felt like a piece of meat I did. 

He was all over me, just wouldn't leave me alone. I just wanted to watch the rugby on TV.

Had to go down the pub.

Of course Wales lost.

It's ours!

Writing techniques

Benny Anderson writes abba songs by playing rubbish for ages and hearing accidental stuff that's great, and making a note of it.

He adds that if you do that 8 hours a day for 260 days of the year you should end up with 4 good songs.

I've followed this technique insofar as I witter to myself for ages then write down the less salacious rubbish, all for you.

Practising my Werner Herzog impression as people look on. 

That weird bloke talking to himself is me. I've yet to write much down.

It's becoming more difficult.

Old Ladies' Hairdos

What is it with old ladies and their hairdos? 

'An Ann Widdecombe my child, and make it snappy!' demandeth they.

Chop all my hair off and call me Doris. I shall have a complimentary fussy cardigan to boot.

This used to be a demarcation when women got to 40. Dress like a grandmother.

I'm glad women keep their hair longer for longer. 

I'm a baldy with a beard and fancy 'tache who dresses in t-shirts and jeans. Shirts are too fussy in the main. 

3 months off the booze and I still can't shift the final roll of tummy fat.

Growing old, eh?