WTF, OMG and R U F'N SRIUS?

I'll admit it: I'm a snob when it comes to certain things. Bad teeth really get to me. And although I am guilty of the odd fashion faux pas now and again, I instantly judge people who wear track suits as a matter of course. Bad table manners, not saying 'please' and 'thank you', interrupting... all on the list of thing that make me go 'hmmm'. Is it fair? Nope. Am I being a superficial jerk when I do it? Probably. I'll tell you what though... nothing gets my goat quite as much as bad grammar.

Now, don't get me wrong. I LOL and BRB with the best of 'em. I'm all for the evolution of language. I'm a big fan of Stephen Fry, one of the most educated modern men I can think of, and even HE gets cross when people attack the use of slang and swearing... if language never changed, where would English be now? Exactly: it wouldn't be, period. So I'm all for evolution.

But I received this in an email today, and I'm wondering whether I'm out of touch, or whether this person needs to go back to school (skool?):

"Cheers seppo haha should haver but as the end to regular season just realised my error ;) look 4ward to seeing u all on sunday and gert put thru my pacers agen"

It took me a while, but I think what it should have said is this:

"Cheers, Seppo. Ha, ha. I should have put '...as the end of the regular season'. I just realised my error. I look forward to seeing you all on Sunday and to getting put through my paces again."

OK, I know. I get it: I'm OLD and this is the way kids speak these days. But, seriously? The only punctuation is the emoticon; the only capital letter is at the very beginning. Sure language can (should) change, but can't (shouldn't) it also remain coherent? Are we to lose commas, periods and vowels altogether?

Oh, I don't know. It's after nine. Maybe I just need to drink my Bovril and go to bed...

Say What?

As a kid, teenager and young adult, I was part of a fairly small group of friends who avoided using drugs of any description. Some of us (like me) did it because our religion advised us against it - others made different personal decisions. The end result was that those of us who abstained had a very different experience than those who chose to indulge, and without being judgemental I can say that I'm happy about the choices I made. I didn't start drinking until much later in life and still don't any great attraction to other kinds of drugs. Sure, I've had the odd experiment - special brownies, herbal teas and one or two incredibly good nights with Mother Nature's mushrooms, but I could count on one hand how many times I've gotten high on anything other than alcohol. Don't know why - maybe I'm too uptight, maybe I'm too skint... maybe I just really don't like not knowing what's going into my body. For whatever reason, the monkey has stayed well and truly off my back for most of my life, and I've never been even slightly tempted to offer him a piggy-back. Until now..

A report in yesterday's Huffington Post explains 'How Teens Are Using The Internet To Get High'. When I first read this, I thought it was something more akin to what The Onion might publish, and I kept expecting to get to the punchline. But it never came... this is for real! Turns out that companies are marketing songs that are intended to induce specific reactions in your brains, giving you all kinds of non-chemical alterations. From 'sexual', to 'relaxed', 'hallucinogenic' to 'euphoric' - you can buy a tune to change your mood. They advertise it as a "completely safe, non-addictive binaural beat" that will provide the listener with "an ultra-happy mood and an increased confidence." Seems pretty innocuous to me... though I'd like to see some research on whether it works. Most opponents to the technology are worried that because it's marketed to give you the 'same effect' as real drugs, that people who "i-dose" (seriously, that's what it's called) will eventually make the jump to marijuana, cocaine and the like. I'm not sure I buy that argument, but it's worth considering and bearing in mind. Me..? I'm more concerned about it being a scam than a gateway.


But it turns out that stuff has been around for AGES. Wikipedia tells us that Heinrich Wilhelm Dove discovered binaural beats in 1839.  Fast forward a few hundred years of scientific research and it now appears that we have a mainstream society that is so 'tuned in' that what started as funky bit of cognitive research is now a marketable way to achieve altered states.

Personally, I think the jury is still out on this one. I'm not entirely convinced that it works, nor am I entirely convinced that if it DOES work that it's as harmless or harmful as the lovers and haters would like us to believe.  It's hard for me to imagine 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High' with people pouring out of a smokeless VW campervan with their headphones on - or Cheech and Chong having the same digital appeal. It also seems a very lonely thing, to get 'high' on your own in this way. Like I said, I choose only to drink my drugs, and when I do that it's usually with friends because being out with them is a major part of why the experience is worthwhile. So sitting on my own listening to binbeats doesn't really grab me as much. 


For me, for now, it's just really interesting. Who'd have thunk it, eh...?

Wememberance Wednesday

Sixty-one years ago today, my mom was born. Four years and three hundred, thirty-nine days ago, she died. I'm no mathematician (I even have problems spelling 'mathematician'), but to die at the age of 56 in the 21st century seems really fucking unfair. Is it ironic that when I used to whine 'that's not fair!', my mom used to reply 'who ever said life was fair?'

Please understand that I see my mom as a human being - and that to me, means a couple of things. Sadly, it means that she was flawed. She had some major issues, dealing (or not dealing) with stuff that I can't even begin to imagine. And she didn't always handle it well. Her alcoholism and subsequent poverty is very clearly the reason she is no longer with us. Well, that and a medical system denies basic health screening to the poor. But make no mistake: she drunk herself into a situation where getting well again was always going to be tough. Her early years were tough, I'm told, and her adult life had its share of tragedies, too. I remember going to get her in a hotel room in Arizona, where she had verbally abused the staff for weeks as she quite literally tried to drink herself to death. I remember that she lost everything, systematically, because she was hurt, afraid and lonely. I remember all of that.

But I also remember how generous she was. I remember the first time she felt 'rich' and gave my brother and I each a $100 bill. I remember that well into our adult lives, we were her world, and everything she had she wanted to share with us. I remember her heartbeat and how, as a small child, I would nestle into her chest and fall asleep. I remember the first time I broke a bone, and how she would look after me when I was ill (which I was, a lot). I remember her driving me to practice, picking me up, and teaching me softly what was right and wrong. I remember her driving me to my first college lecture, and how I had to stop myself crying before I went into the room. I remember telling her about the first time I masturbated, and my first one-night stand. I remember the Christmas in Paris, when she packed a small artificial tree and we unwrapped tiny chocolates as our presents. I remember her husband, my father, as well as her boyfriends, girlfriends and pets. I remember so many good things about her; she is so much more to me than the last few years of her life.

I can't say honestly that I always honour her as I should. I make mistakes she's warned me about, I do some of the things she tried to teach me to be better than. But today, sixty-one too short years after she was born, I look at my daughter, named after my mom, and I hope that Mom sees and knows the very best thing I've ever done. A good friend of mine assures me that she does, and I'm choosing to believe it.

Happy Birthday, Mom. You are greatly missed.

TuNesday: Bombay Bicycle Club

I used to tell people that I didn't have a 'type' of anything. Maybe it was my attempt to be universally tolerant, or avant-garde, or maybe even it was a good way not to piss anyone off. Food...? Mexican, Italian, Chinese, French, whatever. And music... country, folk, rock, classical - I 'loved' it all. Turns out, I was only part right. Turns out that what I'll accept, and what I'd recommend are two totally different things. Turns out that what I'll settle for and what I'll seek out vary considerably. I haven't listened to a country song since I left Pullman. And music? Well, this is the third 'TuNesday' I've written and it's the third folky song I've picked. So I'm beginning to think that I have some types, and this is one of them.

I emplore you to check out 'Bombay Bicycle Club'. Their new single 'Ivy and Gold' has that same kind of simple,  honest resonance that strikes me in the likes of Mumford and Sons, Jason Mrantz and even a hint of Simon and Garfunkel in their day. Have a listen here:

Before this, I enjoyed 'Always like this' and 'Magnet' and have been impressed by their live performances on the summer festival scene. I had to admit, though...previous releases like 'Evening/Morning' and 'Dust on the Ground' haven't grabbed me as immediately like this one, but I hear foundations of a sound I think I'll like a bit more as I listen a bit more.

TuNesday: K'naan

OK, I'll admit it: I'm enjoying watching the World Cup. Or, as one newspaper over here smugly put it (in a sarcastic attempt to Americanise it): The World Series of Soccerball. Yes, we Americans do tend to excel more in sports we invented and, to be fair, the sports we've invented really only appeal to us and a handful of places we've been. But the same could be said of Soccer - and the British can't even claim to be very good at that any more.

One of the things I've enjoyed most about this year's tournament has been the 'offiicial' theme song: Wavin' Flag, by K'naan. Of course it's cheesey, and of course it's a bit Coca-Cola corporate rah-rah, but for some reason lines like 'let's rejoice in the beautiful game' makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Maybe it's the beat behind it... a steady, resonant 'thump' that moves in and out of focus. Maybe it's the superficial simplicity of the song - it evokes the simplicity of the game, really, and the almost universal appeal of the competition. But I think it goes more deeply than that. The version released for the World Cup is a little disappointing... the message of K'nann's original song have been watered down significantly. The original song is strong - it speaks of war, and struggle, and the ability of the human spirit to overcome extreme adversity. That song is about so much more than football, (or Coca-Cola), but probably wouldn't have made a very good theme song. What's left is still moving, though, and to my ears the beat and more optimistic (marketable) lyrics are just about enough.

I'm still not convinced that I'm a lifelong fan of Soccerball, but at the very least, this summer, I've enjoyed myself. And I turn up 'Wavin' Flag' every time it comes on.

FYI, K'naan has done other stuff, too. Born into a war-torn Somalia, he's known for his fusion style and politically-charged lyrics and has been quoted as someone who avoids associations with 'gangsta rap'. He's collaborated with Keane, Bryan Adams and Mos Def, and is currently on tour supporting Lenny Kravitz. All in, well-worth a listen long after the final whistle.