Just thought I'd breeze by and say, "Hi!" to the kollektive, and especially my good friend, nay tovarishch, Seryozha. (Waves!)
I have to say that this whole writing on the internet thing is quite frankly...terrifying. I'm a little tongue-tied..Heh.
So, as the blogger(?!?) virgin that I am I'll settle for losing my cherry by posing this question to the kollektive: Why all the "K"s? Is this some charming Kafkaesque reference? Teen, I mean middle age angst? I'm personally inclined to view it as a homage to my favourite Russian (the Hamster is Russian, isn't it?), a certain Mr Kuryakin.... (Giggles.)
Oh yes, and Hayles? Your poem is quite quite beautiful.
Axasha.
Thursday, 8 February 2007
Monday, 5 February 2007
Hello my name is Hayles and will be your blogger for the time being. Writing on the Internet is such a weird feeling, it's like talking to the whole world and talking to nobody at the same time. Well for my first post I'm not going to talk about me, instead I'm going to showcase one of my poems. (Mainly because this is an artistic blog). It's not Burns or Shakespeare but hopefully you'll like it.
Mirror
Facing the truth in a pane of pain,
I smile back, but it’s not the same
Why do they say “mirrors don’t lie”
This façade of a face is dying all the time.
My soul laments a silent plea
“Don’t fall apart
At least not now”
And don’t they know, you’ll make the Angels cry
You’ve frozen your heart
Where your demons lie
There’s no rest for the eternal scream
Rely on your mask to make it what it seems
Imagine a world, where you are free
It will workout… Somehow.
Mirror
Facing the truth in a pane of pain,
I smile back, but it’s not the same
Why do they say “mirrors don’t lie”
This façade of a face is dying all the time.
My soul laments a silent plea
“Don’t fall apart
At least not now”
And don’t they know, you’ll make the Angels cry
You’ve frozen your heart
Where your demons lie
There’s no rest for the eternal scream
Rely on your mask to make it what it seems
Imagine a world, where you are free
It will workout… Somehow.
Saturday, 3 February 2007
ALIEN HAMSTER KOLLEKTIVE
TRACK OF THE WEEK
"Eels - Losing Streak" (From the album Blinking Lights and Other Revelations)
'Wished that I was dressed better ' is my favourite line from Eels Losing Streak from his classic double album opus Blinking Lights and Other Revelations. And, those of you who know me will no doubt nod wisely and know why I resonate with this sadly, melancholic line.
This is so - birthplace Geeksland - with a central character who is suddenly shedding his losing streak and asking 'Was I wrong about the world?/ It's a beautiful place.'
What I love about this cut, however, is the busy little piano riff and that wonderfully understated bass - it's just sort of there in the background furtively worming its way through space. It's actually a jolly little ditty with a smashing soaring little crash after the verse and pre-entry to the chorus. It has a carnival feel, laced with sad, minor chords, which drive it along through some astoundingly direct lyrics. In fact it is fairly simple song with all the contradictions and complexities of really great music.
'Always felt like giving in/To the feeling I can't win' is where we have all been with our ex-girlfriends -ex-boyfriends-ex-wives- ex-husbands and the dreaded bank teller with the ripped face and dyed hair. Like a refugee from a Stephen King horror novel, there she is behind her computer, smiling - I'll rephrase that - grinning - the bloody axe unseen by the hapless customer.
"Good morning, how can I help you today?" Inflated cheesy smile, tilt head 45 degrees, flash eyelahses.
"Oh yes, I wonder if you'd mind awfully pretty if you would be so good to change this cheque for cash?"
Whoomph - head chopped off in one movement...
"Eh...no, sorry we don't do cheques on a Saturday morning...read the small print freak! Next!"
You know who I am talking about...
SERGIO
"Eels - Losing Streak" (From the album Blinking Lights and Other Revelations)
'Wished that I was dressed better ' is my favourite line from Eels Losing Streak from his classic double album opus Blinking Lights and Other Revelations. And, those of you who know me will no doubt nod wisely and know why I resonate with this sadly, melancholic line.
This is so - birthplace Geeksland - with a central character who is suddenly shedding his losing streak and asking 'Was I wrong about the world?/ It's a beautiful place.'
What I love about this cut, however, is the busy little piano riff and that wonderfully understated bass - it's just sort of there in the background furtively worming its way through space. It's actually a jolly little ditty with a smashing soaring little crash after the verse and pre-entry to the chorus. It has a carnival feel, laced with sad, minor chords, which drive it along through some astoundingly direct lyrics. In fact it is fairly simple song with all the contradictions and complexities of really great music.
'Always felt like giving in/To the feeling I can't win' is where we have all been with our ex-girlfriends -ex-boyfriends-ex-wives- ex-husbands and the dreaded bank teller with the ripped face and dyed hair. Like a refugee from a Stephen King horror novel, there she is behind her computer, smiling - I'll rephrase that - grinning - the bloody axe unseen by the hapless customer.
"Good morning, how can I help you today?" Inflated cheesy smile, tilt head 45 degrees, flash eyelahses.
"Oh yes, I wonder if you'd mind awfully pretty if you would be so good to change this cheque for cash?"
Whoomph - head chopped off in one movement...
"Eh...no, sorry we don't do cheques on a Saturday morning...read the small print freak! Next!"
You know who I am talking about...
SERGIO
Thursday, 1 February 2007
ALIEN HAMSTER KOLLEKTIVE
MY LIFE AS A COMIC BOOK SUPERHERO
You know what it's like.
You're driving home in the early hours of the morning with nothing to focus on save some glib pop on the radio - Duran Duran's The Reflex - and the roadkill on the motorway (gruesome). On the passenger's seat, pages of The Dark Knight Returns comic book flickers in the breeze from the open driver's window. You suspect the weather is changing and about to develop into a storm.
Sure enough, It starts to rain, and soon it is torrential. Lightning suddenly licks the doomladen charcoal grey skies above you and somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow you have one of those magic realism moments of inspiration.
'Why' I say to myself, 'Don't I start a blog and invite some of the most creative people I know to contribute? People who can write about art, film, literature, music, drama, philosphy, politics and the human condition. Guys who can write with spectacular dynamism and verve - well let's just start with those that can write!!! Intellectual, clever people who can dazzle with their thought, enlighten with their discussion.'
I decided in that moment to invite those creative souls I knew to the 'blog party' and started to assemble a team of bloggers fit for purpose. People ready to achieve their sunflower seed targets and able to give insights into the kind of underwear superheroes wear over their trousers. Some of the finest alien hamsters on the planet in fact.
Curly haired thespians, weirdly dressed drama queens and curiously morose trainspotters, for whom Wednesdays are no longer put aside for cleaning out their sock drawers. Individuals, who take great delight at wearing stripey pyjamas in the face of adversity and in the teeth of howling gales. An elite squad of superheroes proudly displaying talent and ability as well as being convinced that there is life on Mars. Each with their own unique catchphrase...and erm... and security tags.
Literary revolutionaries of the third kind, art gorillas - sorry - art guerrillas, urban armies of the musical night.
Quite simply the blinking lights of a dying galaxy taking the trip - nice reference to the psychedelic sixties. An editorial team of brilliant, but alas, totally naive blogsters. Ready and willing and grinning like maniacs, their crayons poised at the ready...red...green...blue...pur
SERGIO (February One 2007)
You know what it's like.
You're driving home in the early hours of the morning with nothing to focus on save some glib pop on the radio - Duran Duran's The Reflex - and the roadkill on the motorway (gruesome). On the passenger's seat, pages of The Dark Knight Returns comic book flickers in the breeze from the open driver's window. You suspect the weather is changing and about to develop into a storm.
Sure enough, It starts to rain, and soon it is torrential. Lightning suddenly licks the doomladen charcoal grey skies above you and somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow you have one of those magic realism moments of inspiration.
'Why' I say to myself, 'Don't I start a blog and invite some of the most creative people I know to contribute? People who can write about art, film, literature, music, drama, philosphy, politics and the human condition. Guys who can write with spectacular dynamism and verve - well let's just start with those that can write!!! Intellectual, clever people who can dazzle with their thought, enlighten with their discussion.'
I decided in that moment to invite those creative souls I knew to the 'blog party' and started to assemble a team of bloggers fit for purpose. People ready to achieve their sunflower seed targets and able to give insights into the kind of underwear superheroes wear over their trousers. Some of the finest alien hamsters on the planet in fact.
Curly haired thespians, weirdly dressed drama queens and curiously morose trainspotters, for whom Wednesdays are no longer put aside for cleaning out their sock drawers. Individuals, who take great delight at wearing stripey pyjamas in the face of adversity and in the teeth of howling gales. An elite squad of superheroes proudly displaying talent and ability as well as being convinced that there is life on Mars. Each with their own unique catchphrase...and erm... and security tags.
Literary revolutionaries of the third kind, art gorillas - sorry - art guerrillas, urban armies of the musical night.
Quite simply the blinking lights of a dying galaxy taking the trip - nice reference to the psychedelic sixties. An editorial team of brilliant, but alas, totally naive blogsters. Ready and willing and grinning like maniacs, their crayons poised at the ready...red...green...blue...pur
SERGIO (February One 2007)
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