21 years ago today the last Talk Talk album was released. 21 years!! That's probably why the tribute album has just come out and coincidentally Mark Hollis's first bit of music in 14 years was used on US TV on Thursday night.
I got enthused and excited about the reformation of the House of Love only to be slightly underwhelmed by the album and subsequent live show, so part of me kind of hopes that Talk Talk stay firmly where they were (although I don't expect a reformation; all I do expect is maybe an album of ambient styled freeform jazz from Hollis maybe next year, with no vocals and lots of silence. That would be great (and it would give me something new to torment the kids with...)
People You Might Know
Farcebook has this right hand column on my page that has adverts, events, birthdays and sometimes a bunch of 'People you might know' or suggested friends. Now, I often see people on here that I know - mainly comics people and my sister-in-law - but have no real desire to become FB friends with, unless they send me a request. Sometimes, I see someone from my past, but I think I've just about covered all those bases; but most of the time there's just a list of unfamiliar faces and people who know people I know.
On Friday night, I logged into Farcebook (mainly to have my daily dose of Bejewelled - to keep my bonuses topped up, natch) and on the right hand side was someone I knew and it was really weird...
When I worked at the YOT I had a lot of colleagues as friends, but once things started to turn a little sour I axed all but a handful of them and after I left I declared that I would not under any circumstances befriend work colleagues again (that way I can be disassociated from work completely and my blog stays away from colleagues etc.) Anyone who has looked at my profile page on FB will know that it has nothing on it. I deleted or removed every bit of info and have hidden all my likes (or un-liked them); I don't have any details about where I work and it suits me fine. So imagine my surprise when one of the new teachers at the school appears in the People I Might Know column. She's not friends with any of my colleagues (not that that would matter even if she was as I'm not); she doesn't appear to like anything I like and she has no mutual friends. Plus, she's new and has just moved to Northampton from Nottingham. I can find nothing at all that might possibly have activated some 'bot to associate her with me. It was obviously a complete coincidence, but it was also quite odd considering how many million people subscribe to that particular fuck-witted social media thing.
Oddly enough, a couple of days earlier I discovered that inside the Messages area of FB is a sub-folder called Other, which appears to be a kind of spam filter imposed by FB to stop other FB accounts from communicating with people who aren't your friends. In it was a message from some woman who claims she saw my profile and was so impressed decided she wants to become my friend etc., etc. As stated, my profile essentially says: Phill Hall, age 50, lives in Northampton, now fuck off! Clicking on her own FB page, she has one friend, a man with a Spanish sounding name and a profile picture that left little to the imagination. I'm tempted to write back and ask her what part of "I am a misanthrope leave me the fuck alone" does she find most attractive?
Frivolous moment, if you will.
Stew. You get beef stew, lamb stew, chicken stew, venison stew, vegetable stew, but you don't really get pork stew. Yes, you get things like cassoulet but however porky and stew-like that might be, it isn't Pork Stew, is it?
Not that I would eat it if you dished it up to me.
When Phil Met Harry & David
I, if you'll sort of excuse the expression, rolled up at my first No Smoking Clinic on Friday; 4½ weeks after stopping smoking. This week has had its moments, where I could quite easily have buckled, despite the mess my lungs were (and still are) in. I figured I'd use it for the support I needed in the same way as alcoholics use AA - after all it is an addiction.
I got there first; I knew I was entering a new styled arena of support - a group of non-smokers instead of a one-to-one with a berating nurse. My first session consisted of three 'addicts' and the nurse. I was the new 'addict' and I was joined by Harry - the retarded halfwit half-brother of Grizzly Adams and any member of the Magic Numbers. He was still smoking ten a day despite using full strength patches and needed a bath. He wanted to be there, he said so; but I think he's so hopelessly addicted to nicotine that he can only afford his fix by getting max strength patches to supplement his 'ten' a day.
David was a jellyfish on legs. He had skin that was so dodgy I thought it was translucent, he shook a lot, sounded very stupid and obviously wasn't by the intelligence his stupid statements held within them. Unlike Harry who had little dress sense but was at least decked in a combo that looked vaguely like he had a clue how to dress himself, David looked like he'd been dressed by an evil retarded camp homosexual who was gaining his revenge for his unrequited desires. He also didn't work and went everywhere by taxi... How do people do that? I've seen the amount of money DLA gives out and it isn't enough for people like this to live, let alone dress like a blind man trapped in the Evil Mr Ben's shop.
I have worked with people like this for 10 years and I really don't want to come across as horrible to those less fortunate than ourselves, but I actually felt like I was put there on purpose...
- I have been listening to Talk Talk, Porcupine Tree, Blow Up Hollywood, Shack and Dvorak.
- I am up to A Feast For Crows (which I believe came in for a lot of criticism) in my reading habits.
- Found wood mushrooms today, amazing considering how dry it's been.
- I am considering getting a pedometer to see just how far I walk in a day now.
- My lungs might feel better but there's not a huge improvement in capacity at the moment; was a bit disappointed with my peak flow results, but it's barely been 5 weeks.
- Prometheus... Not as bad as I feared, nowhere near as good as I hoped.
- Ashtray boils