deep house.

Nothing has to power to drag you back to a place and time more clearly than music - except smell. A friend recently turned me onto these DJ sets from Sir Henry’s in Cork, and I’ve fallen into a vortex.

From what distance does nostalgia become acceptable? From years 0-30 I absolutely detested it and all reminiscing, thinking it was tantamount to saying that the business of creating a life was over. But from where I’m now sitting, Ronnie Whelan is bossing the midfield and Viz is still funny.

things i’ve learnt from the internet part two.

1) i’ve just been asked to join this group on flickr:
السلام عليكم
قروب بدوي للعلوم الطيبه وهبه الريح وفله الحجاج والصور الذربه
يقول للجميع مرحبا والله ومسهلا
القروب قروبكم
والمحل محلكم
اخوكم
بدوي

the online translator offers this by way of explanation:
“The peace on you,
Bedouin for the flags granted him the wind,
the pilgrims and the masts says for the all welcomed and Allah and laxative
The place in place of you,
Make brotherly you,
Bedouin.

Hang on. Laxatives?

2) Philip Larkin described his own appearance as “a cross between an egg and a bloodhound”. Bless him.

3) After satisfying a recent bagel jones, I got to wondering about the origin of the word jonesin. it transpires that it may - or may not be - Great Jones Street in New York.

That’s all for now. Make brotherly you Bedouin.

We order room service! They have jet-lag! The PR flack calls time!

for the same reason that I love Musical Rooms, I love the shit out of Random Rules . It’s a weekly interview with a musician wherein they hit random on their iPod and talk about whatever track comes up. It’s far more interesting than reading an unfortunate journalist trying to find a fresh way of describing another cookie-cutter interviewing experience with an apathetic musician who doesn’t want to discuss their love life.

This is from the latest random rules, with Canadian rapper, Cadence Weapon.
Elephant Man, “The Way We Roll (Remix feat. Busta Rhymes and Shaggy)”
CW: I have never heard this song before, but it might be really good. I like Elephant Man. I used to be on a huge dancehall kick in 2003. I was listening to almost exclusively dancehall that year. I remember I really liked Elephant Man, because all his raps were about how his dick was so big—like an elephant trunk, you know? I guess that’s the whole meaning behind his name. It’s not that he feels separated from society. He just has a really big dick.

I guess that’s dancehall deconstructed pretty much forever.

GOOMFTIMSTAYRIBJBH

Every Saturday morning, the Irish gather in many of the beautiful towns of mainland Europe to play a game that might be unique to our people, and at which we can be said to be truly world-class. The location is unimportant, though the smaller the town, the more fiendishly difficult and exciting it can be. Some of the best venues for it are Carcasonne, Dubrovnik and Rimini. The rules are the same for every place; they are unwritten, they are known by each of us, and we have learned them by instinct.

snark and counter-snark.

On the subject of what has been called creative non-fiction. here’s a fascinating profile of Augusten Burroughs from New York magazine. First comes a meta-disclaimer:

NOTE: This profile of the allegedly fake memoirist Augusten Burroughs is based on real events. Dialogue has been compressed, and chronology has been changed for dramatic effect.

Then there is the following piece of ‘reportage’:
“As I watch Burroughs react, my polygraph needle begins to tremble again. Outraged denial is, of course, a reasonable response for an honest writer accused of lying. But is it even remotely possible that, after a well-publicized two-year trial in which his career and reputation hung in the balance, these allegations would come as a surprise to him? Can he possibly be “flabbergasted” by anything I’ve said? I ask him if these accusations came up in court. He says he doesn’t remember. A minute later he says he thinks they probably did. Soon he is borderline shouting about how ridiculous it would be for a writer seeking mainstream fame to describe not only a gay sexual relationship between a man and a young boy but “anal penetration!” The new diners at the table next to us, a pair of quiet young gentlemen in nice sweaters, pause momentarily from their conversation about a Paris Review party.”

Then in the comments section, “guiser” compares the journalist to the writer:
“You’re in the Grammercy Tavern, the person you’re interviewing is very nearly screaming at you in response to a question you had asked, presumably from notes he laters mention you straightening with one hand or the other, and you can recall that two people at a table distinct from yours were discussing a Paris Review party? I’m surprised that you were so dubious of Augusten’s power of observation and retention.” BY GUISER on 04/28/2008 at 1:22pm

Okay. Can everyone just button it? Everything is true* and it’s a bank holiday. Let’s all descend from the information treadmill and give our tender hamstrings a break.

Hasta Tuesday.
* that’s a lie.