Sorry about the pic. Bad lighting, bad time of day, bad background, etc. Continue reading
The blues usually hit me in February, but winter weather came early and so I am ahead of schedule.
One of my knees has been waiting for surgery since last year. Three-month wait to see specialist, then told during appointment that it would be at least six months to get the operation. Now,at the seven month mark, I call his office to see what’s what.
“Oh you’re down for a reminder call in June”
WTF?
D and I are out grabbing a few groceries– it’s too cold for much else. I turn and see the baby ski hill. Not a chance. My life is on hold. I’m furious.
HMS Belfast, River Thames, London.
In the centre, those tiny waving figures are Pete and Bernard. It’s the last few dats of the school holidays, and fed up of being stuck in the house chowing at each other, we took the train into London. I thought Bernard would be interested in the mummies at the British Museum, but they terrified him into a massive sulk. We escaped to the river and found ourselves walking towards Tower Bridge on the south side. He burst into animation at the sight of this hulking great warship, which he assures me is “the strongest ship in the world.”
I’m worn out and it’s pretty expensive for something I have absolutely no interest in, however gratifying it is to see him get so enthusiastic. There is a cafe, though, so I sit with my book while the boys tour the ship. Looks like it might rain soon, doesn’t it?
Nano and I went for a walk in the snow this morning, both of us bundled to maximum bundleage for 15 F (-10 C):
Human: full-length down coat over two layers of clothing (Uniqlo heat-tech long johns, sweater, pants), socks and knee-high snow boots, knit hat and gloves.
Canine: ridiculous tiny dog hoodie, ridiculous tiny dog snow booties (okay, you listen to him shriek with pain because of the ice-melt salt getting into his paw pads and then mock the booties)
I walked him to the long sloping hill at the western end of our park, which looks across south Brooklyn to the Hudson Bay, Buttermilk Channel, and the great Manahatta beyond the water. Sunset Park – the neighborhood and its eponymous park – is the highest residential point in Brooklyn, second only to Green-Wood Cemetery’s Battle Hill which is directly north of here. I’m proud of my neighborhood, even though it’s frequently overlooked in the commodified hysteria of “Brooklyn the Product”. Our Scandinavian working class roots, our connection to the waterfront and dock yards of the late nineteenth century, our growing Chinese population. I like it here; even as it gentrifies, it does so relatively slowly and respectfully.
Enough of history, though; this is “where are you now” and here’s where I am. On the western-facing slope, chasing after my silly little dog on a frigidly cold day, finding myself on surprisingly strong legs. Today is my first long walk through the park in quite a while, and this is exactly as far along as I have come in my recovery from July’s broken ankle. Far enough along that I can jog gently after the dog, through half a foot of snow, without a single twinge of pain. “Now” is a pretty good place to be.
This was originally going to be just for the Uborkans Abroad, then I realised that very few of us still live in the places we started (Just see the answers to question 1 of every single Where Are They Now interview), so we are all, to some degree, expats.
So everyone is cordially invited, during the first week of the month, to submit or post a photograph and/or a few words from wherever they are at the time, about wherever they are at the time. If you have just left the country, or been away for years, or are that rare creature who doesn’t move much, you are included. Everyone is always included on uborka.
I’d like to collect a year’s worth of reflections on where we are now.
Everyone is invited to participate: Post whenever you like during the month, using your own login or email to Karen, with title” Where Are You Now? [name/month]”
We need a new plan. What do you want it to be? Ubotka’s fishing expedition on twitter got a few bites, including clever old krissa’s suggestion to do the fishing in here. So I am opening up the discussion about what to do next, with the following items of bait:
Make of this what you will.
Oh gawd, get a load of this album cover.
The material on this album is heavily influenced by George Orwell’s dystopic novel 1984, which you may have heard of. It’s very trendy to observe how 1984 has apparently come true, and this recent thread on the Android subreddit is a fine example of why such thoughts may have some justification. When I was reviewing “Ziggy” I was also reading a book about the moon landings at the same time, which I felt helped me to appreciate the mood, so I’ve done the same thing for this album and re-read the novel in question.
While the album is listed as having 11 tracks, the effect is of fewer. The first and last aren’t really songs in themselves, but really just concepts that serve as the prologue and epilogue. Sweet Thing, Candidate and Sweet Thing (reprise) serve as one long nine minute song, rather than three standalone items. In my mind, there’s really just 3 songs on side one and 4 on side two.
Once we’re past the spooky, disorientating introduction that is Future Legend, Diamond Dogs and Rebel Rebel are both songs that have gone down in my estimation greatly. I’m starting to get irritated by Bowie’s Rolling Stones impersonations – when Bowie’s songs from 1973-1974 sound like Rolling Stones songs from 1968-1972 then it’s pretty obvious who is aping who.
The other song on side one is the aforementioned Sweet Thing/Candidate bunch. This I am far more interested by, as it seems to be the harbinger of Bowie’s next phase, which I shall call Croony Bowie. You remind me of the babe. No ballads here though, this is not uplifting stuff. Unlike in Ziggy, Bowie hasn’t created a narrative around 1984, but rather he has taken that bleak atmosphere and used it to build little vignettes, snapshots of all the various people who exist in that bleak hopeless world.
Kicks off with Rock n Roll With Me which is like an intermission, a little ray of sunshine amidst all of the bleakness. Not exactly an advert break, but definitely not an indigenous specimen in this album. And then back to your regularly scheduled programming…
I really rate We Are The Dead – it doesn’t have verses and choruses, but rather alternating sections. The first section has a beautiful tenderness and I love how authentic Bowie’s singing is throughout. The second section perhaps is a little plain, the words are spat rather than sung, but that’s the point, the contrast between the two different sections is key to the overall effect of the song. The phrase itself refers to the state where you’ve abandoned the hope of saving society during your own lifetime, and now the only thing that keeps you fighting is the hope that future generations will remember you as a martyr who died fighting for what is right.
Then suddenly it’s 1984 and where the fuck did this song come from? I guess one day you wake up and think “I’ve never written a disco soul song, I could probably do that.” and so you do it, just so you can say that you have. Hey, it’s okay, I’ve been there too. However, Karen has managed to spoil this for me by letting me know that Tina Turner did a cover version, and so now I can’t listen to the song without thinking of her. You know how Austin Powers uses thoughts of “Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day” when he needs to fight the fembots’ feminine wiles? Well, Tina Turner has a similar effect for me.
Of course, no album inspired by 1984 would be complete without Winston’s eventual submission, the declaration of love for Big Brother. Smashing song this, it’s got one of those choruses that is so elegant and succulent that you feel like you’ve heard it before somewhere, whilst meanwhile your heart is breaking and your skin is crawling at the lines “Someone to rule, someone like you, we want you Big Brother” because of all the baggage that that sentiment carries.
And then there’s the slightly weird epilogue Chant of the Ever Circling Skeletal Family which is eerily reminiscent of of Montreal, both in the nature of the song and the title. It does make me wonder if it’s possible for one 2-minute song to serve as the inspiration for an entire musician’s career.
Hits from this album: Diamond Dogs and Rebel Rebel.
My favourite song from this album: I dunno, I’m so haunted by the entire album, there’s no song on here that I’ve really found myself looking forward to. I’m going to chicken out and call it a three way tie between Sweet Thing, We Are The Dead and Big Brother.
Next up: Young Americans
The occupants of Casa Uborka tend not to make much of a fuss of New Year’s Eve; indeed I cannot remember the last time I left the house for it. This year a dinner party was planned almost by accident [Ms Gammidgy: “I think we’ll be okay to come to yours for NYE.” Me: “Uh? Oh. Okay, that sounds fun.”] The Gammidgys are such bad influences that they have already installed their booze in our garage for the occasion.
I started writing this post with the intention of asking you lovely people to sum up your year. But don’t overthink it; no-one should have to work hard today. If I had to pick one highlight it would be hard, but I’ll choose our day in Paris, with finally running 5km as a close second.
Tomorrow we might emerge from our hangovers for long enough to ask you what you’re looking forward to it, but today’s questions is, looking back, what was so great about 2013?