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Back From Space Pt1

Did I ever mention the time that I got blasted into outerspace?

I did and said something so unmentionable, something so offensive to some of the most influential governments on earth that exiled me lock stock n barrel. And no, probably not the governments you’re thinking of.

This was a couple of years back and I was living in the bungalow. I guess they couldn’t have done it if I was living anywhere else, but it happened that the bungy was longish and not very wide. I could remember times, being in there lying crumpled on the bed and looking down its length to the far windows. It was the way the ceiling slanted that reminded me of old school portable classrooms. I’d see those things just as often blowing past on the back of a semi-trailer as I would being used as a classroom.

One afternoon I noticed some guys in the backyard doing some construction but I thought nothing of it. They had those things… you know those things? That look like measuring lenses on tripods—one guy will stand behind it and the other far off somewhere. You see those things here and there occasionally and you … well I think what the heck are the going to build there? And eventhough they were in the back yard I thought nothing of it.

Same the next day when they were back with a few mates this time – saws, horses, planks of wood. All quite unassuming. But rather noisesome.
At this time I was studying – this was during the time when I was mostly studying off campus and would not really need to go anywhere. If something cropped up I would email the professor.

I would trudge across the yard to the out house and ignore the workmen, thinking they were something to do with T.—the landlady. I figured she was getting a pergola built in the yard. And in hindsight, I guess alarm bells should’ve gone off in my head when they actually knocked down T.’s house to make way for unusually heavyduty earth-removal equipment.

east,north

I was doing an assignment on Madonna at the time. It was taking all my concentration. I think I’ve mentioned before, here, how when I get these blocks of things I have to process – information – that it can takeover most of my brainpower. In the evenings I’d make chunky soup and thick toast and watch whatever movie was on telly—but that was downtime. That was as essential as the time actually writing.

One mid-morning after imbibing the double coffee, as is, was and shall probably ever be my habit – I had to go to take a slash and found that the door was blocked.
Or more to the point. The door wasn’t there at all.

I am sure you’ll think it the weakest point in the story, but I honestly didn’t think much of it. I sat down again and continued churning thru info and rewording it with neat little summaries at the end of each para. Periodically my bladder would remind me of its situation and things would go on in the back of my head.
I’m not proud to say it, and I’ll thank you for not repeating it, but I eventually went in the kitchen sink.

Sure! Yes, the noise outside was liable to drive me nuts but I was used to it, I guess. If it wasn’t dogs barking, it was drunken abusive owners of dogs yelling, and if it wasn’t yelling, it cars revving in the back lane and if it wasn’t cars revving it was the sounds of reverse beepers and bucket cranes pile drivers.
Then one day, what do you know? but somehow my bathroom and toilet were now at the end of the bungalow – the opposite end for me where I usually went out the door—the door that was no longer there. I could still see out the windows, which was a good thing because there were right next to the work desk and I often turned to the right to peer out in deep thought.

A couple of days later, during the early evening – 6 or 7 I guess—daylight savings – still light. I was talking to mum on the telephone. I had this nifty cordless blue-coloured phone and eventhough it was cordless I’d always sit in the same spot, right next to the holder. Funny that. But anyway – there’s all the banging as usual but then what really pissed me was that the line went dead.
I stuck my head out the window, frankly fed up with all this rubbish, and called out, “hey look what’s going on here? I was on the phone.”

YS @ 10:33 pm, March 28, 2007

I just wanted to say

Steam. Ah, steam.

Steam is involved in two of my favourite domestic activities; brewing coffee and ironing clothes.

noses nine
YS @ 6:14 pm,

handclaps & snare rush

noone.jpg.jpg
YS @ 10:14 pm, March 26, 2007

Fly with us, it won’t get hairy!

Wouldn’t it be nice if Air Gorilla was an actual airline and not just a booking agency. Maybe I wouldn’t fly them but I’d definitely like to head advertising for them.

YS @ 6:24 pm,

You need to be ready for the magic moment

Sometimes I wonder whether it is not a good idea to trust the internet as a mystical force. Above is the title of a spam mail I just got. Very few spam get through to viewing but this did. It was for automobiles.com. I looked, I don’t think I need an automobile, maybe I need to meditate on it.

The other night I had a dream titled Sun Dragon, described herein:

Then the most remembered—I think it was this room that I live in now, except I had my old bed from when I was a kid – the wood bunk half. It was against the wall window – and on several occasions there was a giant golden dragon at my window. The first few times it was bursting flames at me and the joint was heating up heaps. There was another point where I remember looking out the window, from the bed and seeing it off a distance – against that view I have – and it rose up a bit—it was floating/flying—its head in front of the full burning orange yellow sun—so the sun was setting in the south. It was coming in toward me and fired flames at me in one long stream like a flame thrower – I rolled off the bed slowly and got underneath it. IT was cooler down there – I felt like I had found a solution.

I looked in, as you’d assume, Cirlot’s dictionary of symbols but also googled ‘golden dragon’ – and the internet tells me that the golden dragon is Wild. This is gambling terminology for pivotal or flexible, I guess. I’m still processing.

* * *

Deep Space Lollypop just finished a three week rotation. Man it was fun. Maybe I just got lucky because my homei class was kind of straight, like me. Instead of class 13 I prefer to give them the title of sunshine bookclub. I’m sure it’ll never be like this again – I’ll get all blase (blaaz-ay) and the students more apathetic. I probably shouldn’t reprint their stories here without asking but there was a couple of other sweet midget stories that were gold.

YS @ 10:50 am, March 24, 2007

sweet midget

I was in a supermarket a week back and saw a jar of gerkins. On the label was, “sweet midget gerkins”. Is it abuse of my position to get my class to write a 100 word story or poem with the title having to be, “Sweet Midget”? I think not.

They grumbled at first, and yes even I thought it might have been a little too weird but I have just read through the pieces—my girls stepped up to the mark admirably.
Damn interesting too, the preponderance for mythic themes is way evident.
I liked this one best, by Huh Ju-young. (reprinted uncorrected for authenticity.)

Before sweet midget Lizzy went to bed she looked out of her window and saw the moon. The moon looked so near. “I wish I could play with the moon.” thought Lizzy. But she’s not tall. No matter how much she stretched, she couldn’t touch the moon. “Papa. Please get the moon for me.” said Lizzy to her father. He carried the very long ladder to a very high mountain. He climbed a very high mountain. Finally, he got to the moon. “I have the moon for you.” said Papa to Lizzy. Lizzy played with the moon.

YS @ 5:23 pm, March 19, 2007

Return

Ah you know this happens every once in a while. Things get bent out of shape. Things get off the rails.

gunnin

It was pretty likely that I was going to like Amon Tobin’s new album. The CD arrived in the mail direct from ninjatune on Thursday. In my inner world he has previously taken the archetype role of ‘the artist’. I don’t understand how he makes his stuff, and really sounds like it’s from some place else. Always a shadowy figure mostly hidden under a cap and moustache.
The website is very nifty looking but difficult to read, so this is reprinted from there:

on leaked copies of foley room:

well the debate about illegal downloads has obviously been raging for some time. some blame it for the crisis the music industry is currently facing, others herald this as a new utopian era for the consumer. contrary to the oversimplified views sighted by both ends of the spectrum I believe this to be a fairly complex issue with radically different implications for different artists and labels.

with this in mind I see no point in entering into debate on the general issue here. nor would I consider it my place to tell people what they should or shouldn’t do. all I can comment on with any certainty is how all this has affected me personally and in light of my nearing release this might be of interest to those of you who’ve expressed an interest in my music.

over the last few months I’ve received a surprising amount of mail from people who’d downloaded ‘foley room’. the comments are very positive and many encourage me to “keep on doing what you’re doing” for which I am thankful.

today, the release date for my album, it’s unlikely that you will see it in most high street shops and after the initial run it’s unlikely that you will be able to order a copy even from online stores. this is because in-spite of more people having access to and apparently listening to my music than ever before, the predicted sales of the record were so low that it didn’t justify the manufacture or distribution to any significant level. strange? not when you consider how hard it might be to convince any retail outlet, physical or digital, that they should try and sell something everybody could already get for free months beforehand.

so what does this mean in the wider context? who the fuck knows. like I say I won’t speculate on the wider picture and you can draw your own conclusions as to what this means with regards to my own future output. again I stress that I’m not talking about what should happen here. I’m not saying I should be able to ‘keep on doing what I’m doing’ or even that my record deserves to be bought. all I’m saying, mainly for the benefit of those who might otherwise have been unaware, is that if you personally like what I do and wish to continue hearing more then the only way that will happen is if you support it.

Maybe a rule of thumb should be: if the artist doesn’t have enough money to buy their own submarine (like the KLF) or armoured personnel carrier (like Aphex Twin) then you should probably buy their music.

YS @ 10:29 pm, March 18, 2007

goatstoy.

goatstoy

passion

YS @ 11:38 am, March 10, 2007

intermittent whiteouts

slide over

It was snowing again today. A temporary plunge back into winter. The sunnybreaks enterprise has also been blanco-loco due to wirdpress flakiness. Our humblest apologies.
I have started working again this week. It’s way better than the last job.

WFMU has started another 365 days project; it has been running three months already so that’s a bit of a backlog of wackiness to catch up on.
Also, one of my co-workers has a blog called Shikow. It’s really neat.

YS @ 11:32 pm, March 7, 2007

behind the ball

Amon Tobin has a new album coming out monday I just found out.

YS @ 12:30 am, March 3, 2007

Sunny Breaks: A Quinn Martin Production


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