Land of Diskgrinder

The shit in the river is different every day.

Mainly bollocks then

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March 09, 2010

Must stop writing past midnight

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Garageband test, EOLAS patent notwithstanding

August 03, 2007

Some musical nastiness... And another...

Nearly got the state of the nation

July 27, 2007

Google Analytics points out the continuing struggle to win the hearts and minds of the parvenu colonials (more green=more hits). Need to find some way of attracting the mid-west. Marshmallow-stuffed turkey ? Because I know you have fairly disgusting diets out there in the nasty blank miles of between. Or maybe I should find god? (Stuck to my sole). Rant incoherently for a while on plainly daft theories of ontology and epistemology? (How do I know I'm evolved from slime-mould?). Or is that too up its own fundamentalism? So if you have a friend (or a backwoods flange of interbred cousins you don't talk about) in the dead miles between cities, drop them a carrier pigeon and get them to access my blog (with their steam-driven Babbage engines , or hay-built abaci), let some slightly dingy British rain into their golden-corn lives. Also, it appears I'm not appealing to the redneck constituency. What's the matter with y'all? Too busy fucking your sisters?

Practising the art

March 31, 2007

Well, by now, you - one of the eight reading this blog - should have guessed that this is an echo-chamber, not an auditorium. I'm not really trying to engage an audience just now: I'm trying things out; mainly to see how embarrassed I am by my writing when I read it the next day - always a good measure in my opinion. So, the main things I've found: I over-qualify, use too many adjectives. Half my writing is unwriting. Like embryonic development: where cells are shed from a mitten of undifferentiated flesh to define fingers and thumbs. I have forgotten the rules of grammar for speech. Parenthesised clauses feel like smug little asides from a knowing author to a complicit reader (don't you think?) I enjoy writing sentence by sentence, and risk losing the paragraph's meaning. I want to chop out great screeds of fine writing 1 the morning after. But that wouldn't be in the spirit of blogging this stuff. On the other hand, I've cut some real self-indulgent c...