Day Fifty Nine: Music and Radio

I’ve been pretty busy today, preparing the Daily Dischord Radio Show as well as reading Plato and John McGrath’s play The Cheviot, The Stag and the Black Black Oil (which is about the Highland Clearances and the re-population, commercialisation and capitalist grab for North Sea Oil.

It’s actually RATHER good, and you definitely should check it out.

Probably one of my favourite bands.

I also done the Daily Dischord Monday Mixtape today, which has a theme of “Songs which exclamation marks in the title”. You can click on the image above to check it out. It contains Mogwai, …And So I Watch You From A Far, The Beatles, The Flatliners and A Wilhelm Scream on it.

I’m working on some poetry again right now, so that should hopefully be with you guys in the next few days.

Once again, Daily Dischord Radio starts TOMORROW at 2pm (GMT) and will be available as a podcast soon after.

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Day Fifty Seven: A Work in…Progress

Something whimsical and short because I forgot to do something substantial today and now I’m busy.

Solid Rock Cafe nights,
Juxtaposed against office stained days,
Are distinguished by Jagermiester,
Red Bull,
And drunken haze.

Regardless of the weather
(wind, rain, sheets of snow)
It’s a place that’s never better,
When you’re hemmed in by bikers,
Snot and B.O.

A Parthenon of booze litters the room,
Old and new.
A dodgy bouncer with a dodgy haircut,
Ejects a man for simply being rude
and no one cares when he spills his drink on the floor.

Day Fifty Five: Wandering Thoughts

The clyde arc bridge at night

The city lights burn bright
on the clearest of nights,
bathing the city in a dull hum.
High up in the dark sky
a star drifts by, casting one gentle eye
over the city below.

(Now that the scene is set,
you can start to wonder
if this is a city close to you,
or if smog has closed out the true view
that the country reveals.)

We walked along the clydeside
hand in hand
talking of wishes, dreams and hopes –
such is the folly of youth.
That was then, this is now.

Four years later on the same kind of night
History repeats itself:
the same old walk,
The same old talk.
Dreams tend to stand still as life accelerates
we’re older now, more mature.
We sit in bars; drive in cars
keeping the future in full view.

Where will it take us, my love,
what can we do?
The city night is artificially bright,
obscuring the future with its spectacle,
while the wind sweeps down the alleys,
Streets and vistas,
Blowing our pasts from our paths.
The cold nips at our fingers
Just like time nips at our fates,
scaring the living hell out of us.

Soon the sky scrapers high lights burns our fears away.

Later we make it home – smiles all around –
Fresh from a refreshing stroll along the river’s edge.
We disrobe, get warm and grab a cup of cocoa
as neon flames dancing on my window ledge.

Much like a city our hopes are evolving,
Our dreams pulsate and shift in the throng
In the traffic.
And even though time gets us
in the end,
I don’t mind
As long as I walk the streets with you.

As an aside, I got some stuff published today. Check it out here: http://glasgowtosaturn.com/currentissue/poetry/

Day Fifty Four: A Dark Romance

Today I took a break from my philosophy essay on the essential moral difference between abortion, contraception and infanticide to review the new Darkest Hour record The Human Romance.

How metal is THAT artwork?!

If you’re a fan of the band and a fan of anything metalcore or death metal you will do no wrong in checking this out. It’s basically more of the same, but their standard is so high that it’s almost not a bad thing. One of my favourite bands ever, so go read it and see what I had to see by clicking on the image above. Nice.