Writing on the Wall

Julie's gone out with an old friend returning from New York, which means, for me, a good dose of Keef's shepherds pie and Little Feat's 'Rock and Roll Doctor' just excellent, also 'Spanish Moon' off 'Feats Don't Fail Me Now' then a touch of Joe Satriani in his blue dream, then it will probably mature (!) to Rush and the crowd pleasing 'Spirit of the Radio', maybe ACDC live with 'Thunderstruck' later. I wish sometimes I could be more imaginative.

But, when I was in the White Horse yesterday staring at the MTV screen, I realized I have no clue about contemporary music at all. McLuhan was right about all this stuff, I can't get it because I don't get the technology that goes into it, let alone the sounds generated, which I can only categorize via genre, just as I can only say famous girls of the fifties; huge breasts, famous girls of the sixties; no breasts, famous girls today; bottoms. But no matter, I sit around watching Battlefield Detectives and think about the Romans.

Girl from New York apparently making headway with 3D photos which I don't understand either.

The excellent Dan sent me a message today from Beijing saying he's second in command of a project for a city for 42 million people in China. He's just got his degree. They might take him to Macao for fun with the authorities because he's from Hull. As a good Marxist he should absorb all information.

Writings on the wall ladies and gentlemen.