CLICK5: Sumfin’ Musky

Doctors & Angels – Who Knew?

‘An apprentice butcher who is taught all aspects of the noble art has as much skill as a surgeon.’

*No, you’re an inter-dimensional, alien dolphin assistant, Clicky… /rolls eyes… Now assist me by getting a Song to start this shambles with. If you please…*

*Ooh, good choice. Thanks…*

Hello, Dear Reader, and welcome to Day 34 of lockdown at the LoL. Actually that’s not true – we’ve been open the whole time to visitors. This is a smoking area (see signage displayed to your left), and if there’s one thing to emerge from this time of pandemic, it’s that the Coronavirus appears to find smokers somewhat inhospitable…

*Take a looky… /lights up… Masked… /drags smoke into lungs… Full PPE..*

On Thursday evening, presumably after the ritual applause for the national religion…

*I know, the double standards on display are quite ridiculous…*

… there was a rare injection of humour on the telly…

*Catherine Tate is fab, Clicky… /grins… “Doin’ my Tik Toks”…*

… that got me thinking of another screen to screen conversation…

*Ha! …/flicks ash… Nightingale does shorthand… /blows smoke… Shorthanded…*

*Ooh, that is an icy blast…*

*/final drag… Don’t blink indeed, Clicky… /stubs butt… If you’re feeling Kubricky, Clicky, then ‘bleach’ is a ‘Shining’ word… /plumes smoke… Where are we with this shambles?*

*It was so sad how Donna Noble and the Doctor parted company…*

*Of course, their relationship was strictly platonic, Clicky…*

*Animated statues…*

*Little angels…*

*You know that they are still trying to exterminate smoking, Clicky… /lights up and smokes… You couldn’t make it up…*

Time to end this shambles, Dear Reader. Have a smoke and a Song…

 

 

30-Day Song Challenge: Childhood!

Day 29 of the LoL’s epic thirty day challenge, Dear Reader, and today we’re remembering songs from childhood…

*Sounds like gobbledygook, Clicky… /lights up and smokes…*

 

anglo american celtic viking band 4

*And what does that mean?!*

anglo american celtic viking band 5

^Legs & Co: Birdie Song / The Tweets (TOTP, 01 Oct 1981)^

Enjoy! ❤

*******

Day 29: songs remembered from childhood

Cade’s first song pick…

A lot of this is going to come from television. I can see no way around it. It’s either going to be television, church or school since that is the holy Trinitron™ of streams providing music to young ears in my time. I’ve already done a lot of stuff from my childhood, so in order to meet the criteria for today’s specific challenge, I guess we’ll go with television seeing as how church and school were pretty much still stuck in 19th century music when I was a kid. Not that television was that much different, but unlike church and school, television certainly was trying to figure out how to upgrade their musical models.

^Merrie Melodies & Looney Tunes – Opening themes.^

Roob’s first song pick…

Weird that Cade chose to focus in on TV music from his childhood, as the one song I’d fixed upon including in this post – before even receiving his choices – was the theme tune for a sports show on TV…

*No, that’s not the one I’m specifically thinking of Clicky, though we did watch it at Sunday teatime…*

*Fuck! I’d forgotten just how much cricket I was subjected to as a kid…*

*I’ll admit, there was quite a lot of it I did like…/flicks ash… But that’s not it. Seriously, we could be here all fuckin’ day if you’re gonna keep on guessing, Clicky…*

takes checkered flag

*Close…*

^Classic UK TV Theme ~ Pot Black (Black And White Rag)^

Cade’s second song pick…

Loads of music came in via the idiot box. Mostly musical snippets and blurbs. Lots of fade-ins, lots of fade-outs, and lots of musical chunks that really didn’t belong to a tune, but rather just disconnected and otherwise disjointed musical sounds added for dramatic effect. A xylophone tapping out a cadence to let you know that the news was on. Or maybe a bar or two of some dramatic horns with kettle drums banging away in order to snap your attention away from whatever you were involved in whilst simultaneously raising your pulse rate. Television producers were some devious fucks way back. Loads of people graduating colleges with sociology, psychology, and marketing degrees, and you must put them to work in some capacity in order to prove the the educational system is A) working, and B) pays off in the long run. The practical side being, these young minds you are employing bring with them fresh perspectives on squeezing dollars out of the public, whilst simultaneously remaining malleable enough that they can likely be made to not make distinctions between light and dark. Afterall, they need their jobs. They gotta eat. So you cross some lines here and there…so what?

^Zoom opening credits – Season 3, Cast 2^

Roob’s second song pick…

*Kid shows full of kids. Yuck! Ironic, too, considering that one ran for decades… /blows smoke rings… Oh, I didn’t know Russell T Davies worked on that show…*

*Was it a case of ‘Why don’t you… regenerate Doctor Who?’ …/smirks…*

^We could have been anything – Bugsy Malone^

Cade’s third song pick…

The answers as to why samplers and sampling became so popular in music are right there, you possibly just aren’t looking at things as they really are. Everything got put on the clock at some point. Everything got condensed. The radio was still a bit fluid with respect to time, and also fluid with respect to their programming. But not television. Television was relentless. You have a block of time, in time, and that’s all the time you get. That means anything and everything is over-produced. No raw, no rare, everything is well-done. Rehearsed and practiced to perfection. Sequenced. Quantized. Sterilized. Clean. Machine like. Nothing left to chance. The art has been, and is still being, perfected.

Digress

You’ve got somewhere between 30 and 60 seconds to get your brand out there with a shiny and smiling face, and you gotta do so in such a way that people are gonna beat a path to your door. God only knows how much time, effort and resources went into producing that perfect commercial, but you can bet it was a lot. Pouring weeks or even months into a few seconds. Getting into people’s heads a few seconds at a time, and staying there. Yeah, I’m thinking that it caught on.

^SPEED RACER 1967 Cartoon Intro^

Roob’s third song pick…

The one song that completely captivated me during my childhood, was also encountered via the telly. When my school put the play on for Christmas, I practiced and practiced singing it before the afternoon of auditions in the school gym. I was so excited to be asked to stay on once Mr Ford, the teacher/director, had made his shortlist of candidates for the leading role. That excitement was matched by my complete and utter disappointment to discover that I was only there to help stack the gym benches back along the wall once the auditions were over…

sad dog

*/shrugs… Yeah… /stubs butt… I got two speaking parts and simulated the tornado sound, so I actually ended up with 3 roles in the play, Clicky…*

^Somewhere Over the Rainbow – The Wizard of Oz ((1/8) Movie CLIP (1939) HD^

The final word to Cade…

My intent today was not to be morose or glum and gloomy. I had no idea what I was being fed at the time. Just someone born into the world when I was, and have spent a good portion of the rest of the time trying to make some kind of sense of it all. And, I honestly don’t remember much outside of television with respect to music other than a lot of the ground I’ve already covered in both this 30-day thingie, plus a lot of the writing I’ve done over the past few years. I guess I make distinctions between television and radio music because music on the radio seemed to be more about giving, whereas stuff on television was all about taking. Music on the radio willingly opened a door and gave freely, whereas the stuff on television was more akin to sticking a crowbar in the door to break in or maybe picking the locks. So yeah, the music I remember from “my childhood” is a lot of bits and pieces of nonsense. A chaotic scramble of nonsensical noise created for the express purpose of getting inside my head, and staying there. Consumer 4 Life.

^The Mamas & The Papas – Monday Monday^

*******

We reach the end of the song challenge tomorrow and the final task…

*And Cade and Poppy and Legs, Clicky… /pats snout… And you…*

… When we’ll be suggesting songs that remind us our ourselves. If there’s a song that reminds you of yourself, Dear Reader, pop it into the comments, below, and we’ll include it in the grand finale 😀

Until then, have a Song 😉

^Fade Away And Radiate – Blondie (1978) FLAC Remaster 1080p^

 

Pimple Prick Eruption: A Roob/Click Convo Fragment

*/Dons PPE… Ready then, Clicky, play the vid…*

*Captain Cook’s Sandwich Islands? …/lights up… I’m Kveen of Sammiches, Clicky… /drags… Hey, didn’t you send some Bubbles in Hugo’s direction earlier today? …/streams smoke…*

Masterful Thumbs Up

*/taps teeth… Cade started his post yesterday with a rather large bubble, Click …/deep drag…*

Sweet Master

*/blows smoke ring… Yeah, he teally is a sweetie, Clicky… *

*Yikes! …/flicks ash…*

‘In other words, what’s happened over the last eight days was just “cleaning out the pipes” so to speak.’

*/final drag… She’s a right Nuclear Wintour… /snorts smoke… Didn’t Trinny work for her? …/stubs butt…*

 

Who Noob Tales: Nine Lives… No, Really

I am having a long weekend, Dear Reader. I spent yesterday daytime making final edits to stories in the soon-to-be-published ‘Underdog Anthology V: Six in Five in Four’. Leggy has a preview, in which he includes one of his stories from the book…

Old Peculier on the neighbours cat

*/grins… How peculiar, Clicky… /lights up…*

peculiar (adj.)

mid-15c., “belonging exclusively to one person,” from Latin peculiaris “of one’s own (property),” from peculium “private property,” literally “property in cattle” (in ancient times the most important form of property), from pecu “cattle, flock,” related to pecus “cattle” (see pecuniary). Meaning “unusual” is first attested c. 1600 (earlier “distinguished, special,” 1580s; for sense development, compare idiom). Related: Peculiarly.

wiki peculier

*’Also KT and KH’…/drags… No shit! …/streams smoke… *

Then last night Cade and I resumed his introduction to Doctor Who, and also caught up with Leggy and Poppy… Les amis…

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 1

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 2Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 3Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 4

rare doctor who hand flap

*/flicks ash… Knot a favourite episode, Clicky… /drags… although, excellent use of a jammie dodger… /blows smoke rings… I’d forgotten about that…*

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 5

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 6Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 7

*Like the villain, House, in The Doctor’s Wife, Clicky, Daleks are a bit like a sea anemone… /puffs… “hard on the outside, squishy on the inside”… I hadn’t made that connection before… /taps teeth…*

Anyhoo, in honour of Old Peculier’s neighbour’s cat, Dear Reader, and seeing as a ‘cat‘ won today’s Grand National, I thought I’d take a leaf out of Leggy’s book – pun intended – and post one of my stories from UAV. It’s short and called ‘Nine Lives’. The Knot-Sew confidential making of it can be found here. Enjoy!

*******

NINE LIVES

Karl sat at his kitchen table, smoking and observing the tendrils of early morning mist gently tickle the tops of the garden hedge, before continuing their soft creep to the ground. It was dark outside but the lawn glittered with stars; pregnant dew drops nestling in the grass caught the thin, amber light that spilled from the kitchen window. He stubbed out his cigarette and gulped back the last dregs of cold tea from his mug with a grimace. Not long now, Karl thought, she’ll be home soon. Outside the mist started to swirl and pool.

He stood up and stretched, bones creaking and knees popping as if to salute the end of his vigil. He fleetingly considered that he was getting too old for this malarkey, but she needed a watcher – someone to light the way back. He could bear the discomfort; it was only for the night. Karl rubbed his eyes under his glasses, and dragged his hands down over bristled cheeks to wipe any tiredness away. He contemplated putting the kettle on when he heard the first high pitched bark puncturing the dark. The second got him moving. “Not the foxes again!”

As he opened the back door, the wet slap of morning air to hit Karl’s face was accompanied by a rude crash and skitter of a dustbin lid falling, somewhere in the mist. She’s coming from the right, he thought, opening the door wider to peer out into the murk. More barks, louder this time, and a fiery hiss, were followed by the sound of clambered wood, as the garden fence shook violently. Karl held the door further ajar, and a white streak shot out of the mist and between his legs, into the kitchen.

Karl closed the door on the mist and the foxes who, by the sound of it, were now rummaging through next door’s bin for tasty scraps. He turned to the slight figure, lying on the kitchen floor. “For goodness sake, Lara, do you have to tease the foxes? It upsets the neighbours.”

“It upsets the bins,” Lara replied, lightly panting as she rolled over and attempted to sit up. “No, they were waiting for me. Foxes are not called cunning for nothing, Karl.”

“Yes, but they usually leave you alone when you’re hedge riding.”

Lara sighed. “It would seem witches aren’t held in much esteem these days. Not by people or wildlife.”

Karl surveyed the flush in his wife’s cheeks and her glittering eyes, and thought she still looked pretty formidable considering her advanced years. He also noticed the shudder in her arm propping her up. “You should get off the floor. What would you like, sofa or chair?” he asked, scooping her up, with barely a tremble from his own geriatric limbs.

“Sofa,” Lara replied with a wan smile. “Thank you, dear. And a cuppa and a ciggie wouldn’t go amiss either.”

“Funnily enough, I was just about to put the kettle on,” Karl replied, before lowering his wife, so she could reach out and pluck the cigarette packet and lighter from the kitchen table. A fat bead of blood splashed onto the surface below, quickly followed by another. “You’re injured?”

“Damn foxes.” Lara winced and drew her arm back toward her chest. “One of them managed to get a mouthful of armpit. I don’t think it’s too deep. Just stings a bit.”

“But you’re bleeding,” Karl said gruffly. Too gruffly, he feared, from the look his wife shot him. “Okay, let’s get you comfortable and then I can clean that up,” he continued in a more conciliatory tone, before carrying her through to the front room.

Karl noticed that Lara was already on her second cigarette when he returned five minutes later, to set out a bowl of hot water, soap, flannel and towel on the carpet before her. “Kettle’s on for tea,” he said kneeling down. He adjusted his glasses and gingerly started to lift Lara’s elbow. “Can’t let it get infected, how would we explain that to Dr Patel?”

“I can always change back so you can take me to a vet,” Lara replied sharply, pulling away from his grasp.

She must be in great pain, Karl thought. “Come now, dear, we don’t have pet insurance. We don’t own a pet.” Lara’s eyes briefly flashed at his riposte, but her body relaxed and she allowed him to lift her arm. “So apart from getting into a fight with some foxes…”

“Ambushed by some foxes,” Lara quickly corrected him.

“Sorry, ambushed by some foxes on the way home, how was the rest of your night?”

Lara took a deep drag from her cigarette. “Well it started off okay,” she said, billowing a great cloud of smoke. “I went to see Annie and girls down at Saint Michael’s.”

“And how are Annie and the girls?” Karl asked as he cleaned her wound of blood.

“Dead.”

“Naturally.” Any bleeding seemed to have stopped, but the swelling around the punctures had already started to bruise, turning an angry black mauve that only truly flourished on elderly skin. Karl stopped himself flinching at the sight. “You’d think they’d get themselves a spirit cat.”

“They’ve got a spirit cat,” Lara gently rebuked him with a chuckle.

“A ghost cat, then.” Karl smiled at her mirth. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh a ghost cat would be just as stuck as they are. Graveyards are lonely places, Karl. The residents like the company and the gossip. Especially the newly interred. Once the funeral is over, they rarely get more than a yearly visit from any family. If that.” Lara finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray perched on the arm of the sofa. “How’s it looking?”

“Ugly but clean. It’ll need some arnica,” Karl replied, rising carefully to his feet. “That’s in the kitchen. Besides, the kettle must have boiled by now. No, no. You stay there. I’ll go.”

Lara laughed and shooed him away with her good arm before reaching for the cigarettes and lighter.

Karl could hear swearing from outside the back door; Jim must be up and found the aftermath of the fox fracas. Karl popped the kettle on and grabbed the arnica and some aspirin from the medicine cupboard, chuckling at the string of expletives emanating from over the garden fence. He glanced out the window to see that sunrise was already burning off the mist that had been so thick an hour or so ago. It looked like it could be a lovely day.

The sound of the front doorbell caught him off guard. Who would be calling at this hour? Karl wondered and went to open the front door. Through the frosted glass he could make out the shape of a woman in a bright pink dressing gown. What could she want? Karl thought as he unlocked and opened the door. “Morning Celia. Is everything alright?”

“Oh Karl,” his next door neighbour cried, her face puffy and contorted with distress. “Karl, I’m so sorry if I’ve woke you,” Celia started to apologise. “There was some trouble with foxes in our garden last night. I don’t know if you heard any of it.”

“No,” Karl lied. “But I heard Jim swearing earlier. Did they make much of a mess?”

Celia looked distraught at the suggestion. “Well yes, but…” she trailed off with a sob. “Karl, it’s Lara. I’m so sorry. They killed your cat.” Celia had not come empty handed; she held out a bundle, wrapped neatly in a towel, out in front of her.

Karl felt an icy chill bloom from the crown of his head and cascade down his body. “Thank you,” he said numbly, taking the bundle from Celia’s shaking hands.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Celia continued but Karl had already shut the front door. He felt the lightness of the bundle in his arms. It felt so slight.

“Lara?” Karl called as he carried it through to his wife, but the front room was empty. He laid the bundle on the sofa and sat down next to it. A spiral of smoke floated up from the ashtray perched on the arm. Karl turned and picked up the last of the burning cigarette and with trembling fingers, finished his smoke.

*******

I’m off now to introduce Cade to Thoughtful Man’s favourite companion, Dear Reader…

Clara

*/winks…*

Have a Song ❤

Friday Purchases & Other Pressing Fings

Notice anything different, Dear Reader?

different

*The font, Clicky, the font! …/sigh… Why do I bother?*

Running dangerous low on memory space, I’ve had to upgrade the LoL’s WordPress account. I did this on Friday, whilst off work for “Christmas Shopping”. I now have more memory, no ads, a selection of fonts and themes to choose from, and a new domain

*Ha! …/pats snout… I love that show, Clicky …/lights up…*

Whilst I had the plastic handy, I decided to replace the lost copy of a book I used to own. And it has just been delivered! On a Sunday!

Jessicas Trap

I could have got it quicker by buying it for Kindle, but seeing as it was a Kindle version that was lost, I thought I would indulge in a tangible copy with built-in page turning sound effect…

*And scrolling too… /drags… It’s got it all…*

“Christmas shopping” completed, I spent the rest of Friday morning editing a short story Cade was writing for the upcoming Underdog Anthology

Cade tells Roob he feels hit by a train

It was funny him mentioning feeling like he’d been hit by a train, as I’d just been atweeting…

… And then it got weirder…

Cade gets to it whilst Roob listens to a talk

*/sings… I’m a singularity, I’m a singularity, I’m a singularity, I’m a singularity, I’m a singularity, I’m a singularity, I’m a singularity. Now up put your hands up…*

I mentioned Part 1 of John Lash’s Archonic Dementia talk previously and this is another longish one. But was so incredibly syncy that this time I took some notes. Kinda…

Roob notes 1

*Familiar themes here, Clicky… /scratches gnos…*

Roob notes 2

*/puffs merrily…*

I didn’t manage to listen to the talk all in one go…

Roob notes 3

Lashy really doesn’t like the proponents of AI and D Wave computing, likening them to “carnival barkers“. And then he mentioned something that brought me up a bit short

Roob notes 5

‘The cover image is the Seal of Solomon, the seal used on the brass vessel in which Solomon trapped 72 demons and their legions of spirits. I redrew the version in Goetia, scanned it then meddled with it in Paint Shop. It’s relevant to the story, as is the chosen colour and the strange object at the bottom of the back cover. That’s enough hints – no spoilers.’

Roob notes 6

Email from Ruth to Kevin on 2nd July 2014 Norman's House

Samuel’s Girl‘, the next book after ‘Jessica’s Trap’, has already been republished and ‘Norman’s House’ will finally see the light of day in the new year. As for what Lashy’s thinks ‘The Singularity of November 2017’ is…

river-song-spoilers

*Er… or Dear Reader could just simply listen to the talk, Clicky… /rolls eyes…*

Have a Song 😀

 

Belt & Braces */assumes position…*

New Who Outfit

*Straight in there with the photo eh, Clicky?*

Dear Reader, today the new/knew/gnu Who outfit was released to the world…

Apparel (n.) c. 1300, “fighting equipment or accouterments, armor, weapons;” mid-14c., “furnishings, trappings;” late 14c., “personal outfit, a person’s outer clothing, attire,” from Old French apareil “preparation, planning; dress, vestments,” from apareillier (see apparel (v.)). Middle English also had apparelment (late 14c.).

… Posted an observation or two on MEROVEE

 …and further discussed with Poppy in Twitter DMs…

PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 1

*She’s a great Dane and I wear the face of Great Dane, Clicky… /lights up… We could be twins… /draws deeply with Gallic shrug…*

PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 2

*She makes some excellent points, Clicky…*

doctor-hoots

*The owls are not what they seem, Clicky? …/blows smoke ring… What you on about?*

*/drags… Ah, cooper… /exhales… Gotcha! *

PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 4PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 5

*Three parent babies are a thing, Clicky…*

PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 6

*Nice! …/flicks ash…*

PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 7PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 8PSP and Roob discuss The Doctor's new Outfit 9

*/stubs butt… Belting, Clicky, belting…*

*/rubs throat… Clicky?*

*… Make us a cup of coffee, sweetie… /sticks out tongue… Those rainbow belts really uber zesty…*

*Oh and get a Song… /bats lashes…*

I think that’s enough to be getting on with for now, Dear Reader. Although a Cade style question suddenly occurs to me…

Q: What’s the point of humans?

A: Our ability to imagine? ...*/shrugs*...

Until next time… Have a Song…