Slightly less than a weeks worth of Holiday. Super, like Syrup on my face min.


I’m on Holiday. I have around 4 days of the week off. It’s nae bad, I signalled a retreat from Aberdeen early on. The bairn went out to the country at the weekend and we followed on the Monday night, just after supper time. It was strange, McKenzie was not all that impressed to see us, I think he likes spending time with the Grandparents, I think we might have spoiled his holidays.

Oh well, he’ll just have to live with it for a week! He’s got a lifetime of it coming up anyhow, the poor wee bugger.


I’ve begun whittling down all my old stories from a couple of years ago- it’s a bit of a historical exercise…like collaborating with a totally different person. A very strange experience. I’m not that confident I can make it all hang together, but I think it’s a good idea to draw a line under them all and get it finished as a Kindle e-book thing.

Just for the closure man.

I have no idea why it’s called “The Rum Puckle”, it’s a bit of a silly title- I might have to change that in the latest cull.


The last time I read something that made me this pissed off was when I read “When the Wolves Howled” by some deluded bitch with a persecution complex, that book was so shit it actually offended me. It was jaw-dropping in it’s level of self obsession. This time I arrived at Glenburn without any books to read, and without my Kindle- so I rummaged about the various books lying about my Mum and Dad’s house. I found a book that wasn’t a cook book or a Mills and Boon Romance novel. It had a nice cover and looked a bit like a horror novel. It had a scary looking cabin in the woods on the cover, I’m a bit of a lazy git sometimes so I just started reading it without even reading the back cover blurb. It started off allright, I was just assuming that it was one of them nice and entertaining horror novels that I sometimes trudge my way through when I’m really bored. So the jist of the story that the main character has been struck down with a real tragedy- the murder of a child, his child- at the aforementioned spooky cabin in the woods. The story was quite engaging, he was obviously dealing with the whole emotional fallout of bang and blame- rage at the death of his kid and blaming himself for failing to stop his daughter being abducted and most likely fucked then murdered by some pervert. That kinda put me off a bit, I’m not sure whats going on in my head at the moment- probably having a two and a half year old of my own has changed the way I think about this kind of stuff. I mean, it’s odd- I recently re-read an old favourite of mine, Stephen King’s mid-period classic Pet Semetary, and I admit it was a slightly different experience than the last time I read it about a decade or so ago. I’m not overly sentimental about stuff like this, I mean it’s just cheap escapist fiction right? But, some parts of Pet Semetary were a bit hard to stomach this time round. It’s still a really cool book, maybe my way of looking at things has changed incrementally. I still love the section about climbing the deadfall of old tree’s and the spooky encounter with the Wendigo- and that last page is a kick in the cunt.

Where was I? Oh aye, The Shack it started off nice, but then about one third off the way through the book the father of the mudered child gets a note dropped into his letterbox. Obviously the chills set in when we realise that the postie couldn’t have delivered this note- and Mack ( the father) reasons that it is either from his long dead alcoholic abusive father or from GOD.


Sound’s interesting? Yeah, it was at about this point I started to get a bit wary. I may even have mumbled to myself- jesus, don’t tell me this is going to be like an evangelical christian version of Sophies World….


And turns out it was. The wee note that appeared by magic in his all American mailbox was from the great dinosaur bone burying creator, and off Mack toddled to a meeting with the three aspects of God right in the shack where his daughter was murdered.


It all got a bit preachy, a tad clumsy and for me VERY ANNOYING.


I did finish it though, I was not left with a warm comforting glow of revelation or any such spiritual feeling, I just thought “What a fucking stupid ending”.


Watch out though, the next book I’ve found is The Life of Pi which is a booker prize winning effort from 2002. I’m sure I heard an interview with the author on Radio 4 ages ago- and the wee boy marooned with the animals in the middle of the ocean ( Pi) is actually called Piscine- which is French for ocean, or swimming pool. So, aye- this book will probably get on my nerves as well. Fore warned is fore-grumpy, etc


What’s all this typing below? I have no idea, I just found it:



Hitting the block hard, filling a tape with total shit!


The actual shitting luxury of being able to run a bath without technical difficulties. It’s pretty neat.


I filled a whole tape full of complete garbage the other day. I suppose I was aiming to try out some ideas:

I did,

I figured out the following important chunks of information:

  • Tuning to C seems to work okay, I like it- reminds me a little of the old tunings I used in some older stuff, and my current guitar seems to hold that tuning okay as long as I keep it laid back and don’t start hitting the metal chugging thing.
  • Using the headphone output from my battered old Zoom Delay/Reverb pedal sounds REALLY horrible, and if I run it together with my new-ish Boss multi-FX box I can get some really burned out and freaky noises.
  • I’m never really going to get far with this Cold Calling Mars song, maybe I should ditch it. Like wise the one about being a well known hacker and spunk bucket.
  • Hmmm.
  • I’m not really getting anywhere with this at the moment. I really need to get hold of some sort of grumpy bandmates and play stuff at deadly volume.
  • RIGHT?






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