The Most Enlightening Thing I've Read About the WikiLeaks Situation

This. By Bruce Sterling, co-father of cyberpunk. Eloquent, long, insightful, and rather sad.

Daft Punk Lives

This deserves a bump of my near-dead blog:

An alluring teaser for the reshoot of Tron - including silly quotes, two-dimensional characters in a 3D-world (isn't this so MineCraft?), and ALL NEW MUSIC FROM DAFT PUNK!



UPDATE: I have now seen, and, in particular, listened to this video at least 25 times this day. So I decided to change my blog-design to celebrate Tron.

Groan. Moan.

Thought I was gone for good, huh?

I'm down, not out. Lots of surrounding bullshit the last few months. Alot. Don't really feel like blogging about that now.

Music is helpful. Radiohead soothes some of the time. Something fresh and tasty like this also does: Eumig and Chinon remixes Ginger Ninja's Sunshine. Aaah. Tasty funky pop. Pleases my vampire soul.

P.s. Right. So I changed the design of my blog to another standard theme for no particular reason. Not creative, I know. Well. That's just how I roll.

Digital Love - of the German Kind

I guess it's been too long, since I last pretended to blog and instead just posted some links to vaguely noteworthy music that others pointed me to.

Well... This time I have the opportunity to play two cards at the same time - the nerd card as well as the indie card; thanks to German indie-punk band Bonaparte and their excellently titled first album "My Horse Likes You". I find the music strangely enchanting, and the lyrics is hysterical.



Incidentally, my new fad is not shared by my fiancée, Lena. She snortingly refers to the tune as Press Play On Tape-like - not a favorable comparison in her vocabulary. Which, of course, instantly leads me to put this little ditty on:

Covers - Followup 2

The meaningless semi-coordinated prancing around. The helmets with plasticky feathers. The shining waldhorns.

Inducing Silence

I've fled down here. I hear them talking about me. I try to shut out the sound. My mind cannot do it. It doesn't work. I thrust music into my ears. I just want to be left alone. I just want. Silence.

My mind is racing. Adrenaline pumping. Shaking mentally. Am so tired.

How do they do it? How can they not weary from the continuous contact? The inane chatter. The pleasant nothings. The filling space. The. Break. And. Stutter.

Why does it matter?

I pull myself inwards. Cue emotionally tinted retrospective. I'm staring out the window. The trees are black fingery shades against a broken sky. They wave at me.

I was five, the first time I remember experiencing true terror.

We lived in a large cold house in a small town. The garden was as old and unkempt as the house. Dominated by large trees surrounding the house, I recall that we had recently buried my pet rabbit under the old apple tree in the corner of the garden farthest away from the house. It was fall, I think, and dark, darker than here and now. I was sitting at our large wooden dinner table. Drawing, maybe. I was a silent, contemplative child. A branch whipped across the large window to my left. Again. I looked left. I could barely see the trees against the near pitch dark sky. Then it occurred to me that there were no trees within five yards of that window.

White noise.



Lights have been lit around me. Probably as well.

Am still trying to induce silence.

Covers - Followup

Yesterday, I linked to a list of favourite covers by musical connoisseur Le Gammeltoft of Unga Bunga fame.

If you haven't perused through them yourself, let me highlight these two haunting acoustic renditions of soul/pop-hits "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley and "Hey Ya" by Outkast. I did not know any of these artists before. I most certainly have them on my watch-list now.

By Ray Lamontagne - "Crazy":



And by Mat Weddle from Obadiah Parker - "Hey Ya":

Covers

I just noticed that Le Gammeltoft had posted a list of favourite covers. Mmmmmmh, food for my addiction.

By the way, these days, busily coding, I've got this old little juvel high on my Youtube playlist - Newton Faulkner playing Teardrop by Massive Attack:

Wastedness

Cobra is running on the telly. I am lying flat on the floor just barely able to move my fingers enough to be able to type this, while at the same time trying to pretend that I follow the movie.

I've had better days. My head's pounding, sinuitis having settled in my skull. I've had 12-hour days all week, been on pills and caffeine, fighting the vicious cold that spawned the sinuitis, and tried to be of some kind of help with my kid during the nights, since he also has a hefty cold (he, of course, being the vehicle of the viral transfer from the petri dish they call 'day-care' to our home). In all, I'm feeling fairly sorry for myself. (Why is Brigitte Nielsen wearing a clown's make-up? - reeealy white skin, red lips, big furry hear?)

I may be getting soft. I haven't done these kind of hours work-wise, since I was writing up my dissertation. (Go on. Read it. You know you want to. There's a funny bit on page 104. Promise.) On the other hand, then I didn't have Asbjørn. (He so sad, Sly. Sad, sad eyebrows.)

I'm trying to think of some music for the mood. In looking through my little heap of links that I keep of stuff that I trip over, I find a little gem, which I don't seem to remember having posted about.

In an earlier life, I posted about not being able to find online the incredibly artful rendition of (a snippet of) I Am the Walrus by Swedish actor Peter Stormare in the movie A Million Dollar Hotel. His character, Dixie, claims to be the fifth Beatle, and, in particular, claims the credit for the song.

For some reason, somebody doesn't want this movie to be embeddable, so quickly, before I fall asleep - go click this link.

Whoooooa, I'm alive!

Where were you man?!


Eh... I don't know. I've been busy. Doing ... Like stuff...


Then why didn't you tell us about it?


It was like... boring stuff... Wiping the nose of my kid... And so on. Do you want to hear about that?

No! We want more fun and music. Some more rants, also. And science! Where's the science in this blog? Gofix!


...


Ah. Well. Let me see. I should think this is already weird enough to count as a rant. Science. Ah. I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that, right now. (Did you see what I just did there? Referenced a classical sci-fi flic, while stipulating that I cannot talk about science? This blog may be dropping to new depths of cheap puns to survive...)

Now go listen to Alphabeat's perky cover of the excellent Daft Punk tune, Digital Love.




There's a recorded and polished version as well. As usual I prefer the live version, though.