Jack Adams

Peril and closers

David Miller — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 16:15:38 +0000

Back in the land of the virtual living and what a world it is. In just over twenty four hours I’ve had the wonders of a world opening up to me before my eyes, and dealt with the frustrating horror of patronising technology slamming the doors in my face. Welcome back to the world of technical difficulties.

On the plus sign though, setting up e-commerce seems to be easier than ever before, and despite current deficits in decent graphic design (the next project after having achieved functionality without style) things work. Which is at least something, if not everything.

Out.

Never a good thing

David Miller — Sun, 01 Jul 2007 17:14:52 +0000

Worrying developments in the world at large. Gordon Brown PM[sic] greeted by the gift of terror terror terror. It worked for the clowns in the white house and they were led by a hopeless clown who could barely string a sentence together. In the hands of a calculating accountant of a smileless political buzzard like Brown this could be extremely BAD NEWS. The opportunity is rife, it remains to see if it will be taken. Thankfully nobody has so far declared that this means that the world is changed for ever and that the only course of action will be developing tougher, more violent strategies. Although this could well be because nobody has thought up any fresh ways to infringe upon civil liberties yet that after the inevitable 7/7 debacle that was called legislation.

A first opportunity to flex statesmanlike muscles. With Blair that led to disaster in Kosovo. We’ll see, but don’t expect it to be pretty.

Modern People

David Miller — Sun, 01 Jul 2007 17:00:02 +0000

I want my cappafrappa chino
Chilled
With the service to
Match

I want to certify my
Loyalty
In plastic with a credit card
Shape

I have the right to
Believe
In a future where I live on
T.V.

We are Modern People
And we do Modern
Things

Music – frills on top of D5 E5 G5/FMaj D5 Amaj/A7

Copyright musings

David Miller — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 00:35:48 +0000

Lots of debate, several lawsuits (boring) etc etc etc

It’s essentially pretty simple the way I see it; [Attention]; so;
If somebody makes something they should be allowed to sell it. This is basic capitalism, basic property law. Whatever you think of DYLAN{old}, whatever you think of LAWYERS{not worth it} Capital, labour, renumeration are all we’ve got to work with, and there is no utopia that you can torrent just yet. This is not socialism, this is not the revolution.

TAKE NOTE

If there is a revival of post-marxist socialism in the world’s foreseeable future, it will come from DENYING people these kins of rights (property, capital) not Ignoring them.

{/aside RANT}

As a society we have to protect our artists. If we think the whole are thing was at all important that is. If it was all one awful waste of oil and naked women sitting around draped in fruit then it really doesn’t matter does it. I happen to think that it is important, and that moreover people who create things should be able to support themselves by doing so, and it is only by this process {SUPPORT THE STARVING ARTISTS – no More Vincent Van G’s having to cut their ears off} that we can ensure that good art gets made. If everyone is an amateur then we all suffer.

Very simply, if you don’t give these people the right to charge money for the use of things they make (as long as they want to) then how are they going to survive.

Brief thoughts, i’m out

Mess

David Miller — Fri, 19 Jan 2007 12:07:39 +0000

Thank you for asking
I know that you mean well
I’m doing
Fine

And haven’t you noticed
What you sell for survival?
Yeah, I feel
Fine

We’ve only Just Met
This isn’t Hollywood
That isn’t Cooked Yet
But I bet It Tastes Good

Smile like you mean it
If you want me to believe you
You call this
Fun?

I’m a stain on the carpet
But you called it nothing
Yeah, I feel
Fine

X’s Los Angeles and three red hairs

David Miller — Sun, 14 Jan 2007 21:57:10 +0000

Sit tight there – this is a HISTORY lesson, no less. Four fanciful young types, exploding all over each other, makes you shudder – reach for the bladder control quick Jackie, these bastards want me to piss all over myself or something. And my how these kids can turn into old aged FOUR WHEEL DRIVE DAD types – blink and I missed it, no turning back now. Piss yourself to put out a fire? I think not chump.

We’re hollering, elongating vowels trying to entice crafty seagulls down from their comfortable post-luncheon strutting up amongst the gargoyles up on the old church – THIS ISN’T REALLY LIVING. Or is it? No, it’s one step better, this, is EXCITING. Now that’ something you don’t get every day is it? So we throw the rocks up, nice chunky ones, none of your pebbles, we’re not here to get let in late at night because we’ve stayed out past the curfew; we’re here to BREAK something. The fuckers won’t budge though – and you’d hardly blame them. And so we scream and wail, we turn words and sentences that could have been fascinating into banal little irrelevancies, and then we stretch them out, re-spell’em, regurgitate’em until it doesn’t mean anything, and the rocks, the rocks, THE FUCKING ROCKS, are not even close to knocking those seagulls down from up high, and all of a sudden, without anyone noticing, we aren’t even talking anymore, and I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO GET ACROSS!>£M

So we smile a little smile, quietly to ourselves, having calmed down and made a nice cup of herbal tea, and what do you know? It’s actually relaxing. So we search for adjectives, metaphors, analogies, similarities, differences, moments of inspired genius – everybody always wants to be a poet, I’d love to see one of em make it. But these tired mechanisms are failing me, even the grand old overbearing metaphor (see above) is getting a bit stale in the face of this – what to do, what to do?

Cut to it, and quick, that’s what, this is starting to ramble, and nobody wants that:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

We’re back here again, and we’re talking about music pretty openly, honestly, clearly, without any of the usual rhetoric, the wild flights of fancy, the jokes and distractions, just telling it like it is. (Deep breaths, here we go!>£)))) You always end up wanting that something extra, a drop of magic, personality, conviction, charisma, arrogance, inventiveness, playfulness, just a fucking clue about doing things without pandering to things that fit neatly into categories like adjective/melody/poetry/rhythym/…/ FUCK EM. But this, and believe me, I don’t feel good about myself saying this, has lost that drive, blood, guts and charisma that made it the hall of fame entry ticket rock-cannon birthday cake once upon a time. Why? How should I know? Ask them.

It’s just about impossible to get excited about this on almost any level now. And that’s a shame. I remember listening to it once upon a time, back when blind enthusiasm would impress me, and being not exactly blown away, but wanting to sense a kindred spirit in there. But a cliché becomes a cliché begets a cliché, and sooner or later the jokes going to get old, and you look beyond the stylings. By the time we get to the pompous ponderings of the second side of the album I’m so bored I can hardly live with myself. Once upon a time this lot were EXCITING. Some days, yes I do. I wish I was like you/easily amused. It’s trite, and a steal, but these idiots have been going on and on and on about their car radio for the last four minutes, and show no sign of stopping whatsoever.

Sometimes, when you base your values on those intangible qualities that hide just below the surface, pulling you in with impossible power, moving things inside you, even that can get stale. At least when it’s called a ‘MOVEMENT, and when you’ve given up that tiny little piece of your soul to four hundred different punk bands already, and it’s starting to spread a bit thin, you just have to look a bit further, for something a bit deeper that you wanted from Rock & Roll in the first place. You could be as pompous as the cretin playing an organ solo right now and call it meta-depth, but that, is bullshit. You can only use your sympathy vote so many times over.

And unfortunately, I just don’t care enough. I want to be excited.

Untitled Song

David Miller — Tue, 09 Jan 2007 22:18:11 +0000

Stare Into
Stare Into The Sun
With A Cat
A Cat to Slap for

Flesh is Just
Flesh is Just to Waste
You’ll Get Used
Get Used To the

Eat It Eat It
Good Nutrition
Rising sun is
Superstition

Hold Me Close &
Feel me Knowing
Parasites Are
Always Growing

Where do you get your
Soap?


vERSE

E------------------------
B------------------------
G----7-6-------7-6-------
D-3X-7-6-3-3-3-7-6-XXXXX-
A-3X-5-4-3-3-3-5-4-XXXXX-
D-3X-----3-3-3-----XXXXX-

E------------------------
B------------------------
G----7-6-------7-6-------
D-3X-7-6-3-3-3-7-6--X--X-
A-3X-5-4-3-3-3-5-4--X--X-
D-3X-----3-3-3------X--X-

bRIDGE

B----------------------------------
E----------------------------------
G-9-9-9-9-9-9-9-9--1111111111111111
D-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0--0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
A-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7--9-9-9-9-9-9-9-9-
D-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0--0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

E---------------------------------------------
B---------------------------------------------
G-13-13/12--13-13/12--13-13/12--13-13/12-13-14
D-0--0-/0---0--0-/0---0--0-/0---0--0-/0--0--0-
A-11-11/10--11-11/10--11-11/10--11-11/10-11-12
D-0--0-/0---0--0-/0---0--0-/0---0--0-/0--0--0-

E--------------------------------
B--------------------------------
G--------------------------------
D-X-3-X3-XX3-XXX3-X-3-X3-XX3-XXX3
A-X-3-X3-XX3-XXX3-X-3-X3-XX3-XXX3
D-X-3-X3-XX3-XXX3-X-3-X3-XX3-XXX3

cHORUS

E----------------------------
B----------------------------
G----------------------------
D-1-1/41-1-1/41-1-1/41-X/4
A-1-1/41-1-1/41-1-1/41-X/4
D-1-1/41-1-1/41-1-1/41-X/4

E-------------------------------------------------------
B-------------------------------------------------------
G-7-7-7-7-7-7-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-X-7-7-7-7-7-7-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-
D-0-0-0-0-0-0-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-X-0-0-0-0-0-0-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-
A-5-5-5-5-5-5-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-X-5-5-5-5-5-5-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-
D-0-0-0-0-0-0---------------X-0-0-0-0-0-0---------------

Polly Perfect

David Miller — Tue, 09 Jan 2007 21:18:42 +0000

Someone put Polly on a throne
Now she’s sat naked on her own
Just repeating all the words she’s ever known
JUST REPEATING ALL THE WORDS SHE’S EVER KNOWN

So pretty in a petticoat but not very good
In bed
Whatever you do don’t mention that face it’ll only go
To her head

With A Smile

David Miller — Tue, 09 Jan 2007 21:15:35 +0000

She said that’s no
Way to Hang
A Picture like that
Of a man with No Hat

She said that’s no
Way to Treat
A Lady
Like Me

Carve your face in
Every Tree
We’ll pull them Down
Without a Sound

**CHORUS**
/**CHORUS**

He said don’t you
Sing that song
I’ve lost my
And I need it for

————————-

Dirty little grunge tune:


vERSE
E--------------------------------------
B--------------------------------------
G--------------------------------------
D-0-7-9-5-0-7-4-X-7-8-0-6-XX-7-8-0-6
A-0-7-9-5-0-7-4-X-7-8-0-6-XX-7-8-0-6
D-0-7-9-5-0-7-4-X-7-8-0-6-XX-7-8-0-6

bRIDGE
E---------------------------
B---------------------------
G---------------------------
D-0-7-7-0-0-23-0-7-7-0-0-3
A-0-7-7-0-0-23-0-7-7-0-0-3
D-0-7-7-0-0-23-0-7-7-0-0-3

cHORUS (cHORDS)

E------------
B------------
G-----3-X---
D-2-6-3-X-3X
A-2-6-1-X-3X
D-2-6-X-X-3X

Sentence concerning Edward Said – focus group thoughts

David Miller — Mon, 04 Dec 2006 15:32:31 +0000

The problem that underlies this however, and that is very real for Said’s ideals of empathetic interpretive representation is as follows:

When one admits that the historico-idealistic influence of the culture of representation upon the subject that interprets the represented, and further, the post-Kantian admission of representation’s being of essentially irrelevant status to the represented, from what position, and according to what criteria are we to judge the acceptability of any interpretive representation for that which is radically different.