Sunday, 30 May 2010

The Economy, Dennis Hopper and Deepwater

"Like a picture of Jesus on the loo" said son number one after I explained the art of an exhibition we were about to see. We were headed to Whitechapel Gallery to see the Rachael Harrison exhibition. I am still going through the files to try and remember just what I said about her work to inspire such a comment. No matter. Son number two piped up and told son number one that his comment might hurt the feeling of "The Religionists". Our day was off to a grand start.

We detoured past Whitechapel and decided to grab a bite to eat on the glorious Boundary rooftop. A quick check of twitter confirmed that it was open. We donned our tartan blankets and attempted to eat sparingly as we had a bbq scheduled later in the day. In between small bites my mind wandered from the shallow - a lust for a certain kind of eyeglasses spotted on fellow diners...and meandering to the worldwide economy, Deepwater and Dennis Hopper. Hold that mix.

Onward - . The Rachael Harrison erased all bits of doom and gloom and replaced them with a lo-fi absurdity. The divergent- topics- stirred -together theme was explored with deadpan dada. We walked back down Brick Lane with tweaked perception. Sun shining we went on to the BBQ. Which I cannot tell you about but I will say we had the best best time.


The Worldwide Economy. Dennis Hopper. Deepwater. Tie these three things together in your brain and shake. We have a blinding machismo, some robots not up to the task and a flailing mess. will find your own thoughts on economics in all of that.


The ironically named "Deepwater" saga continues with no end in sight. Decades of litigation dance on the horizon. My old friend who resigned from her first lawyer gig after being placed on the Exxon side of Valdez is likely reexperiencing some moral turmoil. The next plan of action is a plumbing sci-fi adventure - Read it here

Saturday, 29 May 2010

I tap, it grows...

I hadn't really meant to get an iPad until a friend said she could get me one on opening day if I should like one. In my mind, it was one of those gadgets I'd eventually end up with, but, I wouldn't think of standing in line in the midst of all the hype. Neither would she. A few quick emails to some secret amazing source earlier in the week secured our Pads and a back door appointment at the Apple store. She delivered it to my door at exactly 2pm yesterday.

It is the ultimate procrastination device. You can't actually MAKE or DO anything with it. But, you can read, watch, arrange and communicate. I've spent the past few months with a standard issue laptop trying to pinch and poke it to expand the text. It was having none of that. And we were in bed together. Ego-killer. And it had a bit of a snore.

The iPad is anthropomorphic. We are having a relationship. You know, the early days knickers flashing cartwheel type phase. I tap, it grows. It is warm, but not sweat-inducing hot. And it has shockingly reasonable speakers. Finally, it is the ultimate Lexulous device.

My complaints? Well - it could be even bigger. Gigantic, able to be mounted on the wall with a remote would be neat. It would balance on my legs better if it were larger. In addition, I'll have to see if I can do two-handed typing - my instinct says that my one handed typing skills are about to blossom instead. The useful thing is all these apple gadgets that seem to sprout like mushrooms in my house are all linked by mobile me. Which means everything updates everything in relative real-time. Conceptually, I like that.

My good friend Tim still thinks it is a dumb purchase. Like my short-lived Ubuntu phase. We'll see...

Friday, 28 May 2010

Lying on top of Hedge-wife

Missmc was slumming it last night. The details of that will remain nonspecific but the occasion was a farewell party for my castle-laden soon-to-be-moving-to-Switzerland friend. She is reluctant to go, and, should be. I am fairly certain that she will be returned to London by the Swiss police. Her gleesome gleeishness is just. not. swissy.

But what can one do in the midst of the great jarring crash of the financial system besides tax-dodge-run-to-Switzerland and start a hedge fund? Afterall - the hedgies have seen the biggest profit during the crisis and lo - if I had half a brain and had liquidated a few years ago - well - no - I'd need a bit of help with that. There are some things Missmc is not capable of. Just a few. Arch your eyebrows here.

Back to the evening. Said friend was fearful she would not find anyone as "normal" as us in Switzerland. Normal? Goodness gracious that is a skew of reality. As tilted as the hill we walked up last night with our ridiculous wedged shoes. Except the long and lithe A. - she had her sensible head-girl flats on and bounded up the hill like a dog in sunshine. How she can drink copious amounts and remain positively corporate-meeting-buttoned-up-shirt is a complete mystery. I won't paint a picture of the rest of us. Yet. Yes. It is coming. That indelible moment.

Can you believe I am still here? I cannot. It is the best and worst day of my life. Picture me, 70's jeans, those wedges, lying on top of hedge-wife . In the middle of the road. Bus approaching. Not a twisted porn scene - we simply fell down together in the middle of the road. Drunk.

I pondered getting up, and, decided the bus had a better chance of rolling over me without squashing me if I stayed lying down. Those are the kinds of decision making skills one is blessed with whilst inebriated. Merde.

He stopped. We rose. And made it to the other side. Of the canyon.

To be continued...

Tuesday, 25 May 2010

You want me back...

You want me back. There you were sailing merrily along through it all and then, the uncertainty cloud wafted past. You kept your glass half-full and off we all went. I've been biting my skeptical Tongue. Why this iPhone just capitalized that is a mystery, but perhaps it does think highly of my Tongue. There. Again.

I've been working very hard on spending all my money before the markets eat it. Back to the superb country farmhouse in Mallorca. Onto Somerset to the crow-infested Babington house. And some other bank-draining highlights. Some of you were fortunate to see me apply the same amount of obsession to things-I-cannot-control-but-can-forecast to the magnificent Iceland volcano saga. Eyjafjallajokull...That is a test. If you can spell it, you are super-a-type.

But alas. Missmc has been polishing up her cv and is preparing to find a Proper with a capital P job. I'll keep you all posted. I do think the markets are going to torture us for some time to come and I need to start hedging.