i'm well aware of the risks of bottle tops

here's a problem: the quality of the air on earth is getting worse and worse and worse and not a lot is being done to make it better. some luffly fluffly people are designing cars that run on electricity and some others are putting old paper in green bins and thats making a tiny wee difference.

when you finish a bottle of drink, or milk, or a jar of marmalade or suffink, do you absent-mindedly screw the lid back on and shove it in a bin and walk off merrily whistling luck be a lady?
i bet you do sometimes.
i'm gonna be a bit generous with figures in a minute:
let's say that the average household has one person a week who screws the lid back on the equivalent of a bottle of milk, bins it and walks away, whistling.
there's something like 60 million official people living in this country, plus an estimated minimum million unofficial. lets say for arguements sake; the average household has five people in it.
so every week, 12,000,000 milk bottles - thats 48 million pints of air - are screwed up into an airtight container and sent off to lie on a dump somewhere.
and they're made of plastic, so thats it. it's the equivalent of packaging up oxygen and sended it shooting off into outer space never to be seen, smelled or sucked again. a lot of it.
if we've been doing that for ten years or so, we've packaged up 24,960,000,000 pints of air and put into indefinite storage.

and that's just by people who live in britain. admittedly thats just working out a bit of maths in five minutes and i haven't gone into micro-calculation or anything, but i reckon i can't be far enough off to let you all relax.

just leave the lid off, okay.

Biodegrade Rate
Cotton rags 1-5 months
Paper 2-5 months
Rope 3-14 months
Orange peels 6 months
Wool socks 1 to 5 years
Cigarette butts 1 to 12 years
Plastic coated paper milk cartons 5 years
Leather shoes 25 to 40 years
Nylon fabric 30 to 40 years
Tin cans 50 to 100 years
Aluminum cans 80 to 100 years
Plastic 6-pack holder rings 450 years
Glass bottles 1 million years
Plastic bottles Forever

i'm dr. frankenstein

goodness me, off we go into a world of delight.
delight i tells ye.

i learnt how to electrocute people back into life. it was at work, we was trained we was. you know those defribillater thingamajigs? do you? they're always in movies or tv or whatever and someone goes into cardiac arrest and they get these paddle thingies and twazap their heart with electrocity and say stuff like "clear" and everyone steps back and there's like this "wwwhhhooooooeeooeoeoeoeoe" noise while it charges up and then they electricise the person and suddenly they perk up and it's like, "i was totally dead, right, and now i'm happy and lively and that." well, now i can use one of those defibrillater things and save someone's life if they happen to go into cardiac arrest in front of me.
so if you're going to go into cardiac arrest, make sure it's near me and also we are both near a defib (AED) machine. and we're not outside when it's raining ('coz i won't twazap you then because i would kill myself). also if would be best if your arrest puts your heart in a shockable rhythm, if not, i can't twazap you then either.

i put an alarm on my bike yesterday. i was so out of my depth. i had to hack into the electronics of the ignition system and connect a load of wires and stuff in. this would've been okay if A/ i had any knowledge of motorcycle ignition systems, B/ the instructions were written in english.
instead they were written in that chinglish language that foreign imported goods have. it had sentences like:
"connects wire to positive ignotion on more than 10 volt when ingintion is on." i shit you not.
in fact the only bit that was written in good, understandable english was "never use the trial and error method to identify connections, failure to do so will damage the unit and the vehicle."
brilliant.
i managed it though. it is here that i pause for a satisfactory smug-face. mmm.

that defibrillater thing, it always makes me think:

man 1: aarrgh, shite-heart... i've only bloody gone into cardiac arrest, somebody help me i'm gonna die. i should barely be able to speak really, but my heart has stopped working proper. it is in a shockable rhythm, if only someone could stick some thingies to me chest and twazap me.
[man walks nearby]
hey you! won't you grab that nearby AED machine and twazap me?

man 2: i'm so busy, old biscuit, i'll defib-u-later.

defib you later get it?
like defibrillater.
...
i can't help it, it's not a decision.

i'm angry by proxy

if you see this car, knock its bumper off.

i'm noisy, but clean

"Stunning doesn’t even come close.."
- (March '05)

we've just got a new sound system to listen to in our office.

it costed £1500.

we got reference quality studio monitors.

yum.

i'm going to cry myself to sleep tonight

i'm somewhere in between

i'd like to share this photo with you. last night i went to an electro-punk gig in a seedy back room in young, hip and trendy chalk farm. right in the midst of semi-naked lesbian debauchery and skinny whiteboys with cocker-spaniel hair was this little old man quietly puffing away and reading his paper, seemingly oblivious to the sweaty writhing around him.

i wanted to talk to him and get him to tell me stories of the war, but his silence was frightening.

i'm a boy, i'm a boy, but dr. marten won't admit it

two thousand woman and me two thousand women and me two thousand women and me and me and two thousand women and me. and two thousand women.
sometimes there are very unique perks to my job. yesterday we had the london women's convention going on all day. there was a band which makes my job 100 times more interesting anyway, and there were some people speaking about womanhood, and an audience of two thousand. ladies. the place reeked of oestrogen. it dripped off the walls.
not that they were all fit, mind. i don't want to give the impression that being a single man i want to get all cosy/sweaty with any double-x chromosome holder. (i'm sure most of them are beautiful on the inside, before you get all "ain't he so superficial, like" on my arse.)
i was expecting a big old women's lib type thing; lots of feminists with those angry attitudes that do more harm than good, all that "we women can survive without men, we don't need them, aren't they crap, i want cake." it turned out to be nothing like that. thankfully the main speaker, carrie, is an equalist. i've always thought this was a much better word to use and implies an infinitely better doctrine. there's been none of the "hurumpf, it's such a man's world, we're so downtrodden" stuff, but more of an acceptance that men and women are different, none is better than the other, we fit together nicely like a jigsaw which feels all tingly and stuff, and don't we complement eachother quite well?" which is a much nicer attitude.
she does have a slightly dubious attitude towards homosexuality which i will try to ignore, maybe if she was a bit more accepting she wouldn't be 42 and still single. not that i'm casting any aspertions on her genetic makeup.

i'm an equalist, i always have been. i believe in chivalry and i think its nice to pay for a dinner, but i'll hold a door open for a bloke too. i used to go out with a girl who was a bit of a raging feminist. it got old. she was once offended because i went to look at a broken window that she'd already looked at. she seemed to think that i wanted to check it with my 'man eyes' and that i thought that her 'pretty lady one's' lacked the technical skills to grasp cracked glass. or something. it was a weird arguement, i didn't really know what was going on for a while.
i was once moaned at because i suggested i change a lightbulb for someone because she could do it she's a woman, not an idiot and within a week she had asked me to fix a shelf. truth is i would've offered to fix the lightbulb if she was a guy, i just like to be helpful. i did suggest that there was no reason she couldn't fix the shelf herself, it's not like she's an idiot.

i know plenty of guys that are absolutley shite at DIY.

the fact is that men are better than women at some things. women are better than men at some things too. it's not always a choice of society, although a long history of defined sociological roles has carved the thoughts of generations and still leaves an imprint on even our liberal generation. it's scientifically proven that girls and boys have different brains. most girls genetic make-up gives them a generally more emotional and empathetic mindset. they connect with other people better, they make friends quicker, they're better at reading people. men have systematic brains. they can build and repair and look at things from a distance without getting emotionally involved.

generally.

that's why generally social workers are women and mechanics are men. all this government crap about 50% quotas is a terrible idea. yes, there are women who will make fantastic sound engineers and men who would rock at nursing, but why don't we allow the people who are good at certain jobs do them instead of creating a false demographic of unskilled people who might fuck it up more often.

i'm not a scientist. i just have lots to say and a modocum of science to back it up; but i'm bored of myself now.

i'm big

there's a big internet thing happening today where everyone is invited to blog about their day & all the contributions will be held in the british library. what a lovely idea. so here's my lovely day...

I don't normally watch Eastenders because I actively avoid unnecessary misery, but it appears to be on the telly-box so I have some brain time to commit my day to text. So that's nice.
Well, to betray my normal blognique and use a standard bloginning: my day began at half past three when I awoke with a rather gooey dry-mouth. Rather than climb from my bed and disturb my brother-in-law who was a-kip on my floor, I thought of hoverbikes until I slept again.
I was rudely awakened again by radio 4 seeping from my clock-radio at six. In one motion I oozed out of my bed, through the shower and onto my bike. Off we sped to Westminster where I work as a sound engineer in a large conference venue. So that was nice wasn't it?
Yes.
There wasn't much going on today, only one conference for team leaders of the DfES. Yawn. I did get a proper lunchbreak though which is unusual. During our lunches, my boss and I have been watching episodes of Monkey Dust in our office. We've just started series 2. Its funnier than season one, but I do miss Ivor Dobbski the Meatsafe Murderer (only he never done it, he only said he did so the police would sew his testicles back on).
I had a email conversation with a few of my friends. Ellen wants to bring her new doggy 'Jack' to Christmas One. I decided he should be renamed Scamp. Ellen did not agree and threatened to eat me. I should explain what Christmas One is; my friends like to have it a few weeks before christmas actually happens. It means we get to have a fun christmas, one to remember when we all travel back to our hometowns to
the inevitable dull celebrations with our families.
..
I'm now writing this a couple of hours on. The suicidle soap opera has been replaced with a DVD of highlights of Dick & Dom in da Bungalow. My housemate and longest standing friend worked on it. We loved it, but our new housemate never saw it, so we're educating her.
My trusty computer is upstairs downloading the latest episode of Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip for us to watch later.
Who knows what else might happen today, but a forage into YouTube has led us to a clip descibed as 'Gizmodo hooks up four GPS devices at the same time and ends up with a maelstrom of voices leading to a nightmarish conclusion.'
A wonderful thing the internet.
I enjoyed my day, but now I need a weewee. Which I plan on enjoying.
I hope you enjoyed your day too.
Okaybye.
With love from the Urban Cowboy.

i'm speedy

my bike. it looks like this:


but it goes like this:

her name is jojo.

some geeky facts if you're interested

she is a honda deauville. she has a 650cc v-twin water-cooled engine,
but with some cheeky modifications to make her faster than factory-spec.
she has a stereo. (i put it in)
she has heated handlebars. (cos i'm a winter wimp)
she weighs 250 kilos. (i like them fast and fat)


okay bye.

i'm one, are you?

i'm a moron

i just turned down sound-engineering front-of-house for the scissor sisters and i don't know why.

please re-read this blog's title... repeatedly.

i'm not going back

out of the neon sun ~ chapter seven

i embark on many things. i'm sure its a common habit amongst dreamers and imaginers and thinkers, those that spend their waking and sleeping moments pondering the world and the flow around them. an idea comes to us:
"i will make a film!"i will write a book!"i will travel forth to a distant land without a second thought!"i will break someone's heart!"i will quit my job for one short adrenaline shot!"i will run naked through the streets of london!"

and you say you'll do it.

and you'll really mean it.

and every part of you, every atom of your neurology, every speck of blood in your capillaries, every blink of your eyelids... means it. for that moment, your idea is immortal and nothing and no-one stands in the way of it's fruition.

but weeks later you're sitting on a sofa in front of the current best comedy on bbc2 and you remember that you'd forgotten all about it.

things fizzle out. not always from 'chickening out' or being too lazy to finish what you started, but because life happens around your idea and shunts it and closes in on it and muffles it and presses a pillow over its breath until it dies peacefully and silently.

or you just can't afford it.

and its a shame. because that idea was the best you ever had. and if it had happened; you would have something to hold onto. something mentally tangible. a life-changing experience, a period of awe, a moment of genius, a feeling of completion, a yardstick that you measure the rest of your life by. one story that you tell over and over and over again and bore no-one, for you tell it with such joy and love that all around you cheer and believe that they were there too.



we booked our plane tickets yesterday.

fruit plan! fruit!

i'm in front

my buddies and i have a bit of a knack of liking something long before the rest of the country catch on. i'm sure we aren't the only ones, there are probably pockets of tasteful people around britain. maybe. hopefully. anyone?

i write here in order to provide proof that we have already discovered studio 60 on the sunset strip. and we love it.
it'll probably come over here in a year or so. but we're taking it now. we're claiming it as our own. the british flag hath been stuck (but as i'm pretty un-patriotic i've drawn a big swastika over it).

it's awesome... the show and the flag.


in a world where tv is clearly dumbing down, it's a welcome relief when the odd show lets us dumb up.

and it has a christian character that isn't an utter freak of nature... notable rarity and worth a commendation.

wish i had this blog back when mighty boosh, spaced, mini-scooters, natalie portman (hubba hubba), family guy, reel big fish, gogol bordello etc. etc. etc. first came out. not that i want praise, it just makes me feel better about myself.

praise is welcome.

admittedly we missed the office first time round though. shame on us.

i'm bored of searching

does anyone know any good, but cheap hotels in new york?
on the upper west side preferably.

i'm renovated

what do you think?

too white?

i'm singing and i reign

ah! pretty evening of delight
red's party saturday night
yon karaoke bar we doth gone
had mighty solid fun
and all sung single and as one
cocktails and computers and ultraviolet
kate bush the cream, by the lady of scarlett
umbrella solo and we joint lose our voice
two hours too short to complete our due choices
and i sung the bad touch and some song about war
and troubadour sang on knees from the floor
the serenade of laces and new people duet
then high as kites a red bus we did get
to london west-south a jamaican named town
and laid heads down and the rain came down
but nowhere a frown
cos it was nice
at lucky voice

i'm all clear

out of the neon sun ~ chapter six

it took them long enough, but my silly length of holiday in the busiest part of the year has been cleared by work. all the way up the proverbial ladder. i currently celebrate within my head. whoopee.
just waiting for the official document to come through, but man-in-charge he say "i can't see any obstacles." unfortunately i have to take half of it unpaid so they can pay for a freelancer to cover me while i'm away. but that's okay, i reckon it'll be totally worth it. they could've just said no.
here we go, here we go, here we here we go, yo.

there are three things i need to condition myself for:
1: get off my ass and learn some mongolian.
2: deal with the fact that i might not get within 100 miles of a shower for the month we're away. yeugkh.
3: drinking neat vodka. (the rumours of russia/siberia/mongolia are apparently true)