Darkling Wood

Resistance

I suppose I should get up now, I really should.
It's all that stands between me and the things I could
Do to better myself, and start my day,
And walk, or run, or both, and write and say
Things needing to be said, to make a living. 

My inbox is an easy task, just one foot then the other.
It's mostly spam or nonsense anyhow, so no bother
To read, and click, and click, and read, and rinse
Repeat, until they're gone and done, since
After that the way is clear, to make a living.

And yet both quilt and mouse feel heavier than lead.
Despite the promise of efficiency's thrill, instead
I wait, and frown, and twitch and drown in all
The teeming, scheming, demon-filled hell
Of distractions keeping me from living.

Born on the Fourth of July

While I rewrite the US National Anthem, T- ensures at least she gets to stay in our adopted home even if They decide to kick me out. I tried to convince her it was a violation of the Patriot Act to put up the decorations before it's even July, but she wouldn't listen. The above-door banners are held on by Scotch (hah!) Exterior Mounting Tape. It had better hold.

 

Implant and Control

There was once an evil King, who desired nothing less than complete and utter power over his subjects. To achieve this, he hatched a plan by which he would implant in every person, a device through which he could monitor and, ultimately, control their actions. But the King, in addition to being ambitious, was cunning. He knew that many people would object to having the device implanted. So he engaged a team of Advisors, subjects sympathetic to his plans, to study the people closely, and to develop and then implement his "Implant and Control" plan. The Advisors studied and analyzed and eventually their Chief announced a four-point plan:

First, sire, we're sorry but the name "Implant and Control" has to go. We believe the people can be subdued and implanted, but there is no point in making the job harder than it needs to be! So instead we propose the "Inform and Care" plan.

The King looked a little subdued, because he'd been quite proud of the original name. But he saw their point, and nodded in agreement. The Chief Advisor continued

Next, we reckon that a large number of the people will accept the implants, with only a little initial fuss, if they are paid to do so. It doesn't have to be a lot and it doesn't even have to be now. We can promise payment in the future. And in fact, we'd spin it a little by making payment (and, therefore, implantation) seem normal. We'll tell everyone that they will be all be paid unless they do not get the implant. This is, after all, the "Inform and Care" plan.

The King frowned. He wasn't too keen on concessions being made to these subjects of his. He was King after all, wasn't he!? But, his Advisors pleaded their case, stressing just how much power the implants would give him, and he eventually, if a bit grumpily, agreed.

New work blog

I'm not always sure where "work" ends and "life" begins (which probably sounds sadder than my experience of it :-) ), so the following may result in some overlap in posting, but I've started a new work blog here: http://assiduum.com. 

The Surrender Of Fort Liberty

[Update, July 17, 2016: the (understandable, now I look at it) reaction of some friends to the following made me realize that I could perhaps be more explicit about my point. My feeble attempt at poetry no more constitutes a criticism of the philosophy of the USA (nor what I presume was and is, respectively, the intent of its founders and their courageous modern counterparts), than a doctor's concerned pointing-out of worrying symptoms of infirmity and possible sickness in a poorly patient constitutes a criticism of human health, vitality, and well-being. And to those who argue that while it's OK for a family member to comment on that family's failings, outsiders should respectfully hold their tongues, I say screw that for a sensible approach to life, especially when it is often the case that those in the best position to alert everyone to said failings are outsiders, precisely because they are outsiders. Consider: what motivation would I have -- I who am in the USA not because that was inflicted on me by birth, but rather because I freely chose to come here because I heard and bought the noble message of life and liberty -- what possible motivation would I have for merely diss'ing the place? None. I cry foul because I care. Listen, those who have ears to hear.]

Rounding off a trio of tunes. Just as the "tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time ...", some recent travels, with the obligatory backscatter x-ray scans, feelings-up, demands for documents, and other "better safe than free" intrusions by various agents of the state, prompted me to consider refreshing the US National Anthem. Consider it merely an alternate, to be used only if the current carry-on continues such that Normal Service Is Never Resumed.

The Surrender Of Fort Liberty

O! say can you see in the eve's failing light,
What once lifted our hearts at That Dawn's light come streaming,
'T'whose worn stripes and dim stars, through grave oversight,
From our shelters we peer, are abused and unseeming?
But the Media's glare, on the Bombs rarely there,
Gives the lie, in the night, that our flag is still here;
O! say could that star spangled Banner yet wave,
O'er the Land that was free, now a bane for the brave?

My Two Girls

Being in a song-writing mood (and one taking a rather wistful and soppy turn it appears!) I may as well get this down for posterity. I wrote it many years ago, but if I was to accidentally pop my clogs it would pop its clogs at the same time. So here's hoping Google keeps a copy. It's set to a traditional folk tune I heard arranged as Maideanan Na h-Airidh on the album The Blood Is Strong by the Scottish group, Capercaillie. 

My Two Girls

Shining eyes, bright in the morning,
First wi' laughter, Sarah-Jane.
Full of life from Him who made ye,
Bringin' joy intae oor hame

Chorus:
For the Lord's no gied us diamonds,
Naught so hard 't'would pass away,
But two priceless bonnie lassies,
Still my baby girls the day

And wi' gentle wee Elizabeth,
There's a twinkle in her eye.
Takes yer sad heart, sets it dancin',
Smile tae claim yer heart for aye

Chorus:
For the Lord's no gied us diamonds,...

If I ever get a spare minute (hah!), I'd like to spend some time at one of Austin's umpteen studios and record my own version, but in the meantime here is a (low qual) piece of Capercaillie's arrangement to give a feeling of what it's about. (Actually, even better would be if I could get Karen Matheson into said studio to sing it for me, but I don't see that happening any time soon!)

In Our Time -- Bragg shoots! He scores! Again!

Melvyn Bragg, In Our Time. Now that's how to do an audio show. Listen to his works, ye amateur podcasters of the world, and despair! 

But let's face it, our Melvyn is no mere mortal. As Pitt is to looks, so Bragg is to smarts. How can One Man And His Show cover such a vast range of topics, keeping up with, and even sometimes gently beating up, the various experts in those fields? Someone make the man a Lord or Fellow or something. Wait! They already did. Well good! He's a national treasure. Bragg, IOT, and BBC Radio 4; reminding the US who is boss, since 1776.

I've written a song in his honour. It took a while, being a complex intermingling of themes and subtle notions. Austere and fugue-like here, grand and symphonic there. Simultaneously bright, but mellow. Cautious in its message of praise, yet sincere and direct. I think it works. To the tune of (for the Americans) "The Stars and Stripes Forever" or (for the Brits and everyone else) "Here we go, here we go, here we go", I give you:

Melvyn Bragg Forever

Melvyn Bragg, Melvyn Bragg, Melvyn Braaagg.
Melvyn Bragg, Melvyn Bragg, Melvyn Braa-agg.
Melvyn Bragg, Melvyn Bragg, Melvyn Braaagg.
Melvyn Bra-agg! MEL-VYN BRAGG!