Progressive Thoughts - Day 31

At last we’ve reached the final day of this weird blogathon. I’ve enjoyed it – and I hope some of you have too.

My last song is currently top of the list in terms of number of times played on my iPod. To be fair, if ITunes had been available way back in 1973 the song would have been something completely different I am sure.

And yes, you’ve guessed it, the song is a progressive rock masterpiece, in my opinion anyway. It is called Drive Home by Steven Wilson and features an extraordinarily emotional guitar solo at the end by Guthrie Govan.

Steven Wilson has the uncanny ability to write sad songs and this is up there with the best of them.

The song is about a man who loses his wife in a car crash and blocks the incident out completely until, later, his wife comes back as a ghost to remind him what happened, urging him to move on and deal with the pain.

The accompanying video is equally sad – but despite this, the song is absolutely beautiful.  If you don’t want to listen to the entire song, just listen to the guitar solo from about 5 minutes into the video.

Anyway – that’s it. I’ve completed my second 31 day blogathon and I must say that it has been fun and has actually ticked off a couple of “resolutions” for 2017 (although not completely). I don’t really want to highlight resolutions but if you set yourself a target and (kind of) achieve it, you suddenly feel a warm and fuzzy feeling inside – something akin to happiness and contentment.

I moaned earlier about how dreadful 2016 was and how January as a month is dark, dismal and depressing and how I needed a distraction and this series of posts has helped a lot. I have increased the amount of writing I have done and also resurrected a 30 day challenge and this has helped me forget about 2016 and this, the worst month of the year.

As we enter into February I am content. I still haven’t lost my temper with a rant about Brexit and Donald Trump despite provocation of the highest order and I can hopefully put all that behind me and start being more positive.

It’s tough but I recommend it.

What’s in store next?

February will bring more misery in terms of the cold British weather but in terms of writing, I am going to aim to complete the first draft of my terrible novel.

I am also currently attacking my language skills, by brushing up on my German and French and taking on another language – Italian. We are thinking of a trip to Italy in September so I would like to impress the locals by at least being able to ask for things in their native language. My exploits with Spanish have shown that this is very difficult – but I like a challenge.

Whether I’ll achieve it or not, who knows – but it will be fun trying.

I will also continue with this dreadful blog and maybe try to post more regularly. Sadly, for you dear reader, that means more garbage from Manchester but it at least it will help those who want to see “How Not To Write A Blog Post”.

See you in February sometime.

And, as a footnote, I hope you’ve experienced a wider range of music and enjoyed a little bit of prog!

Welcome to my world!

Progressive Thoughts - Day 30

Today’s song is another by Canadian power trio Rush, called Cut ToThe Chase.

This is a song about chasing your dreams and ignoring those who try to dissuade you because they think it is a waste of time.

Everybody should have dreams and strive for them, otherwise what is the point of being alive? I truly believe that with a little willpower, it is possible to achieve your ultimate desires; history is full of such people.

Some people choose to be proactive but others simply wait until they are older and add desires to their bucket list when they realise that death is approaching.

I know that death is following me around and while I am doing my best to outrun him, I am relatively content not to create a bucket list of things that I feel I need to do before the Grim Reaper finally impales me on his scythe.

To be honest, I feel it’s now too late to try some of the things I would have attempted as a young man.

Age and sensibility have taken over and, for example, the very idea of hurling myself out of an aircraft with nothing but a huge silk sheet attached to my back with rope does not appeal to me in the slightest.

I might actually have tried it at the age of 20 when my fear of heights was non-existent.

Other features of growing old would simply interfere with such desires.

That’s not to say that I don’t have dreams – I do. But the difference is that I don’t want to achieve them just to cross an entry off a list and boast about my achievement to other people. I don’t want to tell my mates that I swam naked in the Mediterranean Sea for many reasons, not least of all that the mental image of me stumbling into a cold sea showing my fat arse and worse would be something that they would never forgive me for.

An image like that remains etched in the area of the brain marked “OH MY GOD!” for eternity.

Friends' response would almost certainly be a tsunami of verbal abuse that would make Quentin Tarantino run away in shock.

Actually, I realise that I may have given you the same mental image of a strategically shaved ape waddling into the sea, dear reader. I am truly sorry about that.

My dreams are personal ones and a lot of them are ongoing. Additionally, there are some that I haven’t even thought of yet.

I believe that no matter how old you get, you should continue to strive to make yourself happy with achievable and pleasant dreams that you can still manage. Put aside thoughts of having a dangerous liaison with the Angel of Death – you can’t do anything about that but you may bring forward the date if you decided that abseiling down the Eiffel Tower was something you feel like you must do.

What’s wrong with making an effort to be nice to people?

What about travelling?

What about writing that book of your innermost thoughts that your family friends can enjoy after the Grim Reaper carts you away?

All of the above are on my list, as is meeting as many new people as possible (as long as I can rid myself of the Shyness Beast).

Such things are easy, dear reader.

I bet you’re still thinking about a naked ape in the Mediterranean aren’t you?

Progressive Thoughts - Day 29

Today’s song is one of my favourites by Polish progressive rockers Riverside. It’s called Conceiving You.

The song is about a man who is watching a woman from a distance and is totally afraid to actually go and talk to her. Subsequently, he finds himself simply worshipping her from afar.

The poor fellow in the song resonates with me because when I was a shy, spotty ugly youth, I found myself unable to talk to girls that I liked. My rampant shyness was a curse and if I somehow found a nugget of courage in my deranged psyche and actually asked them out, I was destroyed when the inevitable rejection happened.

I chose to look at such girls from afar and watched in agony as other guys succeeded where I knew I would inevitably fail.

Shyness really is a curse and can be debilitating. Over the years I have all but conquered this affliction - though sometimes I am still stuck in a corner terrified to speak to strangers, beating myself up and trying to metaphorically slap my own face in order to snap myself out of the irrational fear that is disabling me mentally.

Nowadays, I consider the worst possible outcome and even then it is not that terrifying. What I have found is that I have an empathy with other shy people and when I see somebody standing uselessly in a corner trying to pluck up the courage to speak, I force myself to actually help them out.

“Hi there; I’m Dave,” I say trying to mask my own nervousness and in a lot of cases I can see a mixture of relief and pleasure that somebody has taken the time to start a chat.

On the other hand my forced efforts to chat to strangers can backfire.

Why?

Because I am a nutter magnet.

There are times when I don’t have to say anything to nutters – they come to me and inflict their strange views on me, much to the amusement of others who may be watching.

Click here to read some encounters I have had with nutters. 

Sadly, some of these encounters with nutters have been self-inflicted. One such incident involved a Manchester City fan (the blue side of Manchester) in my local pub. I was standing next to him at the bar and I just casually started a conversation.

I was with two mates, one of whom supported Manchester United (the red side of Manchester), the nutter’s fiercest rivals.

At first, it all went well.

“Who do you support?” he asked.

“Walsall,” I said proudly.

Walsall are a club that struggle two divisions below the Premiership and as such are not a threat to Manchester City at all. The nutter liked the fact that I support such a pitiable club and actually patted me on the back stating I was a true football fan. I walked back to my mates with the nutter talking to me but at that point, his true nutter identity revealed itself, prompted by my Manchester United supporting friend whom he overheard talking about their last match and how they were unlucky to lose.

The change was terrifying. This seemingly reasonable and pleasant man suddenly allowed his hatred for Manchester United to transform him from Dr Jekyll to Mr Hyde.

He turned to my mate and introduced himself with these words:

“Unlucky to lose? Your pharking red bastards have the referee in your pharking pockets!”

His tone was menacing and he spat the words out with an ill-disguised threat.

“What?” my mate said in surprise.

And then he made a mistake. He responded.

“Oh – and Manchester City are squeaky clean?”

The nutter reacted in a way that even I couldn’t have predicted.

“Shut your pharking mouth before I put you on the pharking floor!”

My mate just calmly said “Discussion over!” and thankfully the nutter left after briefly staring menacingly.

The other lad I was with looked at me and said:

“For God’s sake, Dave! Will you stop talking to strange men?”

That wasn’t the end of it.

The nutter and his mates later left but had to pass our table to do so. As he passed, he once again flipped between Jekyll and Hyde!

“Here are the GAY BOYS!” he said with a barely disguised threat.

We ignored him but then, bizarrely, he came up to me, patted me on the shoulder and with a genuine smile on his face he said.

“I hope Walsall do well, mate! Good to meet you!”

Now I almost said “Didn’t you just call me a gay boy?” but one look from my mates told me not to open my mouth again!

You see, dear reader?

I am a nutter magnet and I just wish that on this one occasion I had allowed my shyness to win a small victory.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 28

Today’s song is another from the brilliant Porcupine Tree called Sentimental.

This is a rather sad song about young kids not wanting to grow old and somehow stay as young as they are but with the added feeling of having wasted their life so far.

I remember when I was a kid that I really wanted to stay young and play forever, but the overriding issue that I realised would remain was the lack of money. As far as I was concerned, with money came freedom and if I had that money I could do what I wanted.

Sadly, a thirteen year old can’t always get the money they want. My parents looked after us but we weren’t rich by any stretch of the imagination. Unfortunately I went to, what was considered, the best school in Walsall, and consequently a lot of kids with rich parents also attended. The big difference was that a lot of them were pampered by their parents who gave them enough money to buy all the latest gear, whereas I missed out. I could see the unfairness of life and I think that this shaped me politically and certainly changed my outlook.

What I saw was that my own parents immensely proud of what I had achieved but some of the other kids I knew were pushed by already successful parents and really struggled to cope.

I was happy with where I was going but I didn’t like the environment I found myself in, particularly when I was at the mercy of rich kids who showed off their treasures and mocked me for not having the same wealth.

My only option was to get a job to get extra cash and it was the best thing I ever did. It was a simple job, in a newsagent but I was able to buy stuff and fight back against the more privileged kids. I worked at the newsagent from thirteen to eighteen, assisting the manager with delivering newspapers, setting up all the paper rounds, collecting money, stock taking, shelf-stacking and, towards the end, selling stuff from behind the counter.

It was all menial work but I thoroughly enjoyed the job, so much so that the manager of the shop tried to persuade me to ditch the idea of university and consider a career as a manager in the chain of shops.

Sadly that wasn’t for me and I had to disappoint him.

However, what all of this taught me was that working for money was a good thing and while it interfered with my social life a little, it meant that I did have some freedom and the ability to laugh in the faces of the pompous arseholes at school who flashed their daddy’s cash around without having earned it.

The job prepared me for a real career and when I actually started work after university, I embraced it with gusto.

Regular readers will know that I am now sick of the rat race but the truth is that I am not a kid anymore and, having worked in IT for over thirty years, I want a change. Whether I achieve my new goals in the years to come is questionable but at least I am happy being the age I am and looking towards the future as an old man with some pleasure – as long as I am physically able to cope of course.

But that thirteen year old kid is still in my head and occasionally surfaces.

I love that and don't ever want that to change.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 27

Today’s song is Incommunicado by Marillion.

The song is about fame, specifically somebody who wants to be famous but isn’t too happy about all that being famous entails.

I know for a fact that I would be a terrible celebrity and I have absolutely no desire to be famous in any way. I would definitely not want people to stop me on the street and ask for my autograph, nor would I like to be disturbed while having a meal in a restaurant or while travelling on holiday.

I would definitely not want paparazzi to stalk me relentlessly in order to capture me on photo in an embarrassing pose or situation, resulting in my face (and possibly worse) being splashed over the internet or in the tabloid news.

Worse, I wouldn’t want people from my past selling terrible stories about me to the press for money and their own fame.

It would be a nightmare.

And, to be honest, I can’t believe that people crave fame so much, Do they know what they are letting themselves in for?

I laugh when certain celebrities constantly seek the spotlight, prostituting themselves for recognition and then, when they have had enough, lash out at the very people they are trying to impress when caught at a low point.

I’ve seen so many celebrity meltdowns when a paparazzo has caught them off guard or when a shy fan catches them in a bad mood. It’s a paradox I can’t explain.

I realise that everybody deep down has an introverted part of themselves that needs solace in their own company but surely if you are the kind of person who throws yourself out there for adoration and fame, you must realise that this part of you will rarely get a chance to surface.

I also don’t understand why somebody should be famous for absolutely nothing, that is the kind of person who has nothing in their portfolio other than making an arse of themselves on a reality television show like Big Brother. These people are mostly just arses who are willing to humiliate themselves to gain fans but have absolutely no discernible talent.

And what of the fans who love these sad attention seekers?

Why would anybody be a fan of Kim Kardashian????

It is beyond belief.

In my view, a true celebrity is somebody who should be celebrated for having done something worthwhile – even better if they did so without even trying. Musicians who make people happy through their music, actors who whose talents move people in movies and plays, authors who write brilliant books, comedians who make everybody laugh; there are many more examples of people whose work should be celebrated – that’s the origin of the word “celebrity”, for crying out loud.

What I really hate are those celebrities who assume that they are better than normal people like me. You know the kind I mean; the kind of person who walks up to restaurants and say:

 “Get me a table now! Do you know who I am?”

There are many examples of “divas” who seem to think that the rest of us are sub-human. Here are some examples of laughable diva behaviour:

Justin Timberlake has one of his staff disinfect every doorknob he comes into contact with every two hours.

Britney Spears threatened to sue a London venue $5000 if the phone rang in her dressing room.

Any chauffeur who drives Kanye West must wear cotton clothes. Man-made fibre is not allowed.

Adele sent hotel staff on a 140 mile round trip to fetch pizza from her favourite pizzeria at 11pm. When it arrived finally a few hours later, she was asleep so it remained uneaten.

Mariah Carey had to be lowered onto a sofa on a TV show so that she wouldn’t crease her dress.

Jennifer Lopez has to have everything white including flowers, tables and tablecloths, candles, settees and curtains.

There are hundreds more if you care to look.

Personally, I rate myself higher than each of these bozos.

Why?

Because I am a nice guy – and that’s probably why I would be the world’s worst celebrity.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 26

Today’s song is one of my favourites, if not THE favourite, song from Pink Floyd. The song is Money and comes from the top selling album Dark Side of the Moon.

People think that this song is about how brilliant money is but let me squash that misconception right here. The song is in fact about how bad money can be and if you listen carefully to the lyrics it is obvious.

I would love to have lots and lots of money but the only reason is that it would free me of the shackles of work and allow me to escape the rat race.

I don’t want much – just enough to live comfortably, travel and buy the things that will make me content. I would not want to be a multibillionaire with so much money that I could wallpaper my house in £50 notes – that way madness lies.

It amazes me exactly how much money the world’s richest people have. What on earth would you do with it all? And how can such people live with themselves when they see extreme poverty?

I’m not suggesting for a second that all rich people are greedy selfish arses; in fact I know of some whose philanthropy is legendary.

Take Bill Gates for example. He has made billions from Microsoft and but now focusses on philanthropy and in total has given away around 30% of his fortune to charitable causes. Mind you, he still has billions left – but I can’t fault him for his morality and generosity.

I honestly don’t know what I would do if I was worth as much as some of these hugely wealthy people. I think I would follow the example of people like Bill Gates and hand it out to people whose life would be improved.

This doesn’t stop me from trying to win the National Lottery, although sometimes the top prize is much more than I can imagine owning. At the time of writing, the jackpot for the National Lottery is a cool £12 million and for the Euromillions lottery it is a whopping £62 million.

While such sums would be a drop in the ocean for people like Bill Gates, such sums would be life changing for a nobody like me.

That said, I do have a plan if by a miracle my numbers come up. I would have to thrash out the details with Mrs PM who would no doubt impose her own constraints on my new found wealth but ultimately I would get my own way.

I won’t bore you with the detail but suffice it to say that it would involve resigning immediately from my job and then jetting off on a first class round the world trip armed with a huge box of notebooks and lots of pens to make notes for a colossal travelogue.

To be fair, I probably wouldn’t even need the full £12 million and I would give a lot of it away.

I have never believed people who say that an injection of such amount of cash will not change them. Some people in the past have won lots of cash and carried on with their day jobs, which I simply cannot understand. As I’ve said, for me it would mean freedom and a way to escape the negative aspects of my life.

That said, I’ve read enough about people who have suddenly become rich and changed their life so much that they wished they hadn’t won. That I can understand because suddenly you wouldn’t necessarily know who your friends are and there might be some resentment. I heard a case of a chap who bought a huge house and moved away from where he lived and then became miserable because he lost a lot of his friends and became isolated, maybe because he became a bit of a diva.

I wouldn’t want that to happen as all and I would try my best to protect my current life (apart from work). For that reason I would remain anonymous and simply tell family, friends and colleagues that I had “come into some money” without specifying how much.

You will never see me popping a champagne cork whilst holding a huge cheque for £12 million, dear reader.

Sadly, that’s almost because I will never, ever win.

Still, I can dream, can’t I?

Progressive Thoughts - Day 25

Today’s song is a full blown epic from the genius that is Devin Townsend. The song is called Earth Day and is one of my favourite songs.

I love this song not only because it is brilliant musically, it is also a kind of piss take of all songs that try to influence people with a hidden message and the lyrics are actually quite amusing in my opinion.

So just shut your face and take a seat

Because after all, you're just talking meat

And music?

Well, it's just entertainment folks.

A friend of mine is a big fan of Irish superstars U2 and last time he saw Bono and the boys, quite a few years ago now, he was a little annoyed.

“Were they any good?” I asked. 

“Musically, yes,” he replied. “But I paid a fortune and I don’t want to pay that kind of money to be berated by Bono for not agreeing with his views.”

Apparently Bono was ranting at the audience again.

He’s famous for it and a lot of his fans are put off by his antics. I know I am and I would never go to a U2 concert for that reason. That said, a lot of people do watch them live and buy their albums so he must think he is loved. I own a couple of their albums and if you cut through the bullshit, some of them are actually okay (well the early ones anyway).

As I’ve said before in this blogathon, I kind of like intelligent lyrics when there is a message.

Sometimes I choose to ignore it but in general I don’t mind too much. I’d rather listen to a song with a message than a song about a bloke picking up a woman in a night club and spending the night together rutting like rabbits.

I find it annoying when artists impose their views on their fans. I don’t count ranting at them; I mean forcing them to adopt their views for a brief period of time.

“How can somebody do that? “ I hear you cry.

Morrissey did just that.

When fans of The Smiths turned up in Manchester to see their idol, they were greeted by a sign that said:

Furthermore, as part of his set, he played a song called Meat is Murder whilst on the video screen at the back, the audience were treated to scenes of gruesome horror from various slaughterhouses.

Do you think that’s a good thing, dear reader?

I don’t. 

I think I would have walked out of the gig and demanded my money back.

You may think that’s hypocritical and perhaps you are right but there is a difference between listening to a political rant from Bono (which to be honest I wouldn’t really enjoy either) and the total ban of meat for an audience most of whom are, like the rest of us, omnivores.

I’m not against vegetarianism or veganism – each to their own I say. I have friends who do not eat meat for whatever reason and I know and I totally understand their reasons. What I don't want is for them to spend all of their time trying to preach to me about why I should give up meat. And they don't.

If I have paid a fortune to an artist to see him perform (his ticket prices are really expensive) and am banned from partaking in a favourite foodstuff while watching (apparently) 15 minutes of horror then that artist has crossed a line.

Just to reiterate what Devin says in his song: 

And music?

Well, it's just entertainment folks.

Let’s just remember that, Bono and Morrissey, shall we?