Imaginary Band

2009-09-02T11:56:00.001-07:00

2008-03-09T12:14:00.000-07:00

Federer versus Sampras: He who laughs last... Part II

... The Madison Square Garden encounter

This weekend, Federer and his agent have announced that the world number one suffered mononucleosis which is better known to me as glandular fever. Federer cited on his website that doctors think he had it since around mid-December 2007.

And since mid-December 2007, anyone who follows men’s tennis will have heard the cries of “the King is dead, the King is dead!”. In counterpoint we now hear a little cheer of “long live the king!”. Fans of Federer must be quietly chuckling at his recent misfortune, because it’s actually turned out to be his gain. As a fan of Federer’s tennis, I admit it does make me chuckle just a bit to hypothesise that Federer has known about the cause of his slump for a little while now, and just maybe, he had a bit of a laugh keeping it all to himself. After all, he was clearly getting a bit fed up of the press bandying about doom and gloom, and possibly of one upstart in particular "giving it all that"… so another source of mild amusement for me is picturing the disappointment on the Djoker's face, now, after all his "bigging up" of his Australian Open achievement. He practically took it upon himself to herald in the happy end of King Federer’s reign. Yes, indeed, how long has Federer known?

"Federer said he did not mention his bout with Mono until now because he didn’t want to take away from wins by opponents Djokovic (Australian Open) and Murray (Dubai) over the last two months."

Sneaky bugger. And it's not like Federer has been a shining example of "keeping schtum" at the right times. His somewhat derisive "constructive criticism" of Murray's game lead the British press in particular to comment, not too unfairly, about “sour grapes”. According to the New York Times, Federer who has now “learned the English term “sour grapes,” said he was trying only to provide “constructive criticism” and did not mean to imply that he did not respect Murray’s game.”

Still, Federer hasn’t done himself any favours by letting loose, and knowing the UK press, it could still come back to haunt him come Wimbledon 2008, so he’s wise to keep his counsel and try some damage control.

The other pressing bit of damage control that needs addressing surely has to be dispatching the “terrible twins” as I like to call them, of men’s tennis - Djokovic and Murray. Both players manage to slightly annoy, bait and prey on the other players' minds just a little bit with their press comments. Both have had a piece of Federer lately. And both are probably on Federer's hitlist! But first he must deal with someone else, who has a lot more history behind him.

Is Sampras likely to take another chunk out of Federer's reputation tomorrow? Your guess is as good as mine, but I have to remind myself that this is, first and foremost, a bit of money spinning! To be able to have said "I was there when tennis's greatest male players had a bit of a hit up" will cost up to US$3773 a front row dead centre courtside VIP seat.

My seat ain't VIP but it is reclining and it even has armrests, so personally I'm going to check out the match via a little known technology that allows a small virtual and visual portal into the USA at that very moment in time with multitudes of camera angles - yes, the match is streaming and if you have broadband, you can get it here on Monday night at 11.30pm GMT (7.30pm EST). It's a lot cheaper than actual seats, too, at a measly $0 (and I'll being praying for a big big server to cope with the traffic). So with the cash you’ve saved yourself, you can shell out for the rockin tunes and videos of Duncan Alex.

Addendum: Federer "won" the match 6-3, 6-7 (4), 7-6 (6) and here are some nice interesting articles summarising it:

FENDRICH ON TENNIS: Federer, Sampras put on quite a show at the Garden

Federer Stops Sampras

Federer beats Sampras in exhibition match

Federer edges Sampras in exhibition match

Roger Federer beats Pete Sampras in sold-out exhibition at Madison Square Garden

2008-02-01T11:28:00.000-08:00

Bored, hungry, like chocolate? ... look no further... here's a recipe for "THE BOY'S SPECIAL CHOCOLATE CRACKLES"!

Requirements:
Largish pan, depending how hungry you are
Big baking tray
Cocoa powder
Rice Bubbles/Krispies
Lyles Golden Syrup
Slightly salted butter

4 oz (proper) slightly salted butter.
Cut it up and melt in pan.
Whilst melting, add 5-6 tablespoons of Lyles Golden Syrup.
Mix all into a caramelly soup.
Don't boil it! Just warm it up, let it bubble.
Add 5-6 tablespoons of cocoa. Taste it. If not cocoa-ey enough, add more.
Now gently boil the mixture for about 1 min.
Take off stove.
Add rice bubbles.
Probably a 1/3 of a normal-sized pack is enough. Pour most of the rice bubbles in first then stir, rather than later, as it's harder to spread if later.
Mix until they're all covered, do it by eye.
Get a big baking tray or little paper cake holders and fill it with the mixture. Compact it as much as possible.
Put it into the fridge for minimum 20 minutes.

ENJOY!

2008-01-27T17:04:00.000-08:00

A £37 Billion gamble... oops

Very interested to read this Reuters story about an employee of the French bank Societe General who managed to be quite sneaky... and get away with gambling £37 Billion pounds, that's 50 billion Euros, of the bank's money. Cheeky chap.

It's silly money we're talking about here. More "than the gross domestic product of Morocco". And it raises all sorts of questions.

First up is quite how he did it.

Secondly - accountability... call me naive and foolish, but I'm just wondering, how exactly does £37 billion in transactions go unnoticed? And what about if it is one single transaction, as they seem to be hinting at when they say a "50-billion-euro (37 billion pounds) market bet by a lone trader"? Has anyone in Societe General ever heard of safeguards? Fingers crossed my bank's a bit better organised.

Thirdly, what's the motive for one to take that kind of risk to one's own ass? Maybe Jerome Kerviel was harboring a secret desire to start building a really world class Underground Lair from which he could control the world? Not likely, there's just too much competition - too many Dr Evil wannabes dotting the planet. No it seems - according to his family - Jerome has no motive. Perhaps he's a sociopath. But that wouldn't explain why he's being really helpful during the investigation.

Maybe the real motive reads something like this?:
Bank gets greedy and wants to make lots of money (it's a bank, it's supposed to want this). It decides to gamble 50 billion Euros. Can't really do this legally, but dammnit! - it really wants a go! So it sets up all sorts of smoke and mirrors. But the gamble doesn't quite work out, and.. Holy Hairy Monkey Mother of the Monkey God - guys... GUYS! .. we may just have set off a series of events leading to a WORLDWIDE RECESSION!

"Merde! Comment pouvons-nous fixer ceci ?!!!" Calm down, calm down... I know, I've got it! Let's blame Junior Employee of the Month!

He'll go quietly as long as we tell him he'll only do two to five, plus a measly 375,000 Euro fine. That Swiss bank account for when he gets out will never show up on the investigation's radar. Aw, hell, hate to say it, we can't risk that, just tell him he'll get some money, then when he's inside, don't give it to him after all. Sorted. And you Mr Chief - Jean-Pierre Mustier - I know you're having a bad day, but you're going to have to pretend to want to resign. Chairman will handle the bit where he tells you "you've been a very naughty boy so you're going to have to stick around and clean this up".

It's all so ridiculous I am eagerly awaiting more information!

On the up side, and the story really is quite upbeat considering how many people must be totally screwed by the whole debacle, if indeed he is to blame, our young Jerome can't have been too bad at it. He only lost £7 billion - even if that was just from the £37 billion bet, that's about a 20% loss - not bad by gambling standards. Now, where's my local Coral shop?

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit duncanalex.com or imaginaryband.com

2008-01-26T10:10:00.001-08:00

What makes Trailer Park Boys so good?

A friend got me into this show. He makes films - the latest one won some awards too. With my limited knowledge of TV, as far as I am aware Trailer Park Boys has never been aired in the UK, although I’d hazard a guess it has reached or is about to reach homes in the US, because the movie is soon hitting theatre screens there.

Anyway, when he said "check this out", I approached the first episode with slight trepidation. What hit you first are really dodgy haircuts and character names. Of course, you don't quite realise how funny it is yet. But soon, you're half way through the 20 minute episode and you've laughed out loud a couple of times at the ridiculousness of the whole situation and the behaviour of the characters - these grown adults behaving like playground children. And towards the end you find yourself rooting for them. The pleasant sting in the tail is that you're left with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

Because it's a show of interesting contradictions. It has heart. It also has crime, and moral ambiguity. It has one dimensional characters and it has really real characters.

By the third or fourth episode I was hooked to the main characters, the shambles they live in, the havoc reaped by Ricky the village idiot, and the drunken hilarity of Mr Lahey the Trailer Park Supervisor... not to mention his inimitable side-creasing relationship with pregnant-gutted partner-in-crime, Randy.

The stories are great. And to top it off TPB has proper character development, over the short and long term. That feels realistic, interesting, and most of all properly milks the characters and their changes, inside and out, for laughs. Everyone changes and grows. Even Randy's stomach gets bigger. And despite this, like in life, everyone keeps making the same mistakes, or slightly different ones, and somehow, everyone stays rooted to Sunnyvale Trailer Park. After all it's their territory, their home.

TPB has a certain kind of integrity too. This is unusual, coming from a TV series in which all the characters are wasters of one kind or another, including of course the quintessential trailer park trash, J-Roc, an Eminem-clone. We've got ex-cons, gangsta wannabes and porn movie makers, drug dealers, dirty cops, loose girls, shopping cart thieves. Everyone does alcohol and drugs to excess, and pretty much everyone is stupid and has utter disregard for the environment and the general public. But, believe me, you will grow to like these flawed characters. There are some core values there - family, loyalty and friendship stand out. A sense of community prevails. In some ways (and I say some) these complete idiots are better neighbours than many suburbian folks worldwide. It feels crazy to write these words, knowing the show!

So in summary I fully recommend it as an offbeat, hilarious show for open-minded folks. It encompasses many different types of humour but I'd have to say it has generally more male appeal (and by that I don't mean that it's sexist - in fact one of the amazing things is despite how easily it could fall into such traps, it is not sexist whatsoever). At times the lead actors are truly brilliant - some moments with Lahey and Ricky really stand out. The show covers morally dubious grounds and often. It's always entertaining and interesting because it smacks of the reality of a life on the fringes of society whilst keeping the focus firmly on the laughs. It's written, acted and filmed with rare discipline. It's so damn good cos it's a shitcom, Randy.

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit duncanalex.com or imaginaryband.com

2008-01-25T15:53:00.000-08:00

Here's a little selection of photos from the areas around my home in beautiful Devon, UK.

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit duncanalex.com or imaginaryband.com

2008-01-25T08:02:00.000-08:00

Who’s it going to be - Tsonga or Djokovic?

Personally, I would like to see Tsonga win. He seems a sweet natured lad. And it’s not his fault he’s French. Go Tsonga!

In the match we’ll have a quick mover with powerful serves versus… another quick mover with large serves. Just how quick is Tsonga? Well against Nadal, who seems to be one of the quickest around, the answer seems to come back as “pretty f’ing quick”. Or perhaps ordinarily quick (say, like… Federer!), but coupled with superb co-ordination and a massive wingspan - quite Ali-like in that regard too! Ali used to by turns reach to hit, and keep his opponents at bay, very successfully with his naturally long reach. If Tsonga keeps it up – keeps reaching shots, and keeps up the impeccable drop shots and volleys, he might just throw Djokovic’s rhythm off. Perhaps an upper hand?

Djokovic is one cocky boy, no doubt talented, bit of a thinker, perhaps not as bright as he thinks though. He could resort to gamesmanship. Those sorts of tactics may help crack someone who’s already down (e.g. Federer) but I couldn’t vouch for it lasting long as a successful approach if one was to gradually alienate the entire field of opponents. However, methinks gamesmanship might be water off Tsonga’s back as he is apparently of placid temperament and definitely, via his good-naturedness, a popular crowd-pleaser. Also he is aloof to the other player on court. So, versus a feisty annoyer (who seems slightly to feed off a partisan crowd as in the match against the crowd-backed Federer) this makes for an interesting match-up, one of the best.

Before the match I doubt Tsonga will say anything at all. Part of his power for now lies with the unknown. [Seems nobody has the full grasp yet of quite how or why he killed all those seeds]. But I’d expect pre-game psychological warfare from Djokovic as seemed to work for him against Federer. I’m almost certain Federer didn’t sleep too well and was worrying a bit, despite all his words to the contrary, having had the seeds of doubt planted by his opponent.

As an aside – no expert, obviously but I’m putting in my 2 cents (what are blogs for!) - I reckon Federer needs a new coach, i.e. a coach at all. Surely there’s times when he needs the wisdom, detached appraisal, support and master-planning that a coach/mentor could provide. I’ve no idea how many people are in his team already doing these things though… now that he can’t rely on being a better player than everyone else on every single day, perhaps he’d also benefit from some of the tidbits and knowledge about opponents that I suspect only a coach could pick up from the sidelines. He said recently he mainly focuses on improving his own game. A future weakness perhaps? Today Federer was thrashed by Djokovic. The other day, Djokovic reportedly gave fellow Serbian Tipsarevic some good advice on how to play Federer prior to that clash. Where does Federer get this sort of information on his opponents? Then again, from all accounts he’s a sociable chap so perhaps he has a collection of sports friends (and coaches) – you know, people like Tiger Woods, no one special, to call upon for advice and to restore faith in himself.

Speaking of faith in himself, Tsonga’s greatest strength, it appears, is just this. He has said it before. And no injuries now… Djokovic, for all his bravado, could be covering for his insecurities. I would bet he does not have the self-belief that the big Frenchman does. Even after thrashing Federer. And I reckon this might be his undoing.

Predictions on the scoreline… hmm. It’s fun to try… and I’ve never publicly gone out on a limb before, so sod it! After this morning, when my safe bet got beaten, I don’t care any more :). Let’s say a tough first set. A break of each. 7-5 to Djokovic. Set 2 goes 6-4 in Tsonga’s favour. Set 3 goes to Tsonga 6-3. Set 4 a tight one, 7-6 (5) Tsonga. C’mon Tsonga!

Music to be happy to and music to be sentimental to…
And here songs and videos available from 15 cents.

2008-01-25T01:15:00.000-08:00

Federer v Djokovic - live

Here's a blow by blow account of the Djokivic Federer match.

Thank you to Paolo Bandini (Guardian Unlimited).

Long live the king!

Hope you enjoy this music.

Oh dear.

Djokovic beat Federer 7-5, 6-3, 7-6 (7-5)

Ah the stoic Swiss. To have that sense of perspective and grounded philosophy... "I think he made the more important points today, it was a bit unfortunate for me," Federer admitted. "It depends a lot on form, you can't always play your best. There is no doubt I have played better before. I've created a monster that I need to win every tournament. Still, the semi-finals isn't bad."

Here's a handy story about the match

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit duncanalex.com or imaginaryband.com

2008-01-24T05:19:00.000-08:00

Tsonga hands Nadal a beating the likes of which he’s never seen

Right at this moment I’m following the scores (great, great pity I cannot see the match) of the Nadal Tsonga match, watching with disbelief as the in-form Nadal takes a beating the likes of which he’s never seen. No excuses, no injuries, simply seems like Tsonga got his number and just steam-rolled through him. Is a star born? Do we have a top four male players, all of a sudden, who are all capable of beating any of the other four? Seems so. Men’s tennis has suddenly blown wide open - with such a calibre of players as even Sampras could not deny is top class. Whether or not they have any of them won Grand Slams is moot - that is simply because one person until now has been doing all the winning (Federer).

Tsonga 6-2, 6-3, 6-2. As my Dad put it, “How amazing is that?”!

Here's Yahoo's take on it.

And an interesting summary of the match via the BBC site

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit duncanalex.com or imaginaryband.com

2008-01-18T17:44:00.000-08:00

What stupid things have you done for your career?

Hmmm. Where to begin really...*
(*if you know me, or work with me, I will not confirm which if any of these events are real)

- Turning up at 9am on the first day. Turning up at closer to 10am pretty much most other days. Isn't flexi-time great. Getting home closer to 7pm than 6pm most nights.

- Allowing yourself different facial hair throughout the week. That's because you don't like shaving, by the way. You know that the more you shave, you more you have to shave. Plus you're already shaving more, so there's even more shaving to do than the more you were shaving.

- The Regional Boss is "doing the rounds"/"pressing palms"/"putting names to faces", and reaches your desk. You turn up in plain clothes (well, it is casual Friday) at close to 9:55 on a Friday.

- Having a girlfriend over on a Sunday night, but taking her back to the train station at around 9.15 on the Monday morning. Forgetting about traffic. Ringing the boss on speakerphone.

- The equivalent of a sub-Regional boss pops his head into a Team meeting of ten or so people and tells the Team that his weekend was ok except he now has a sore back and blisters. You ask him "what have you been doing?"

- Contradicting the sub-Regional boss in front of his subordinates. And letting him down when he was counting on you not to stuff up. Bringing a set of plans/data/tables/charts that you spent hours making, getting into the meeting and finding the rules have changed completely and nothing you brought along is relevant or useful.

- Being interviewed by your team mates, for your own job, and being more nervous than if it were Satan himself seated on the other side of the table.

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit duncanalex.com or imaginaryband.com

2008-01-18T07:58:00.000-08:00

Meet Duncan Alex

2008-01-17T05:52:00.000-08:00

Unbeatable Quality of Life…

A little while back I was interested to read the below article about the best places to live in the world.

My ears tend to prick up at these sorts of surverys. I've lived in two countries, and visited many, mostly as a child. I enjoy travelling, and would do it more if finances and time (and the environment) allowed! It’s also an interesting discussion to consider what it means for most people – that elusive “better quality of life

Having visited all four countries in Scandinavia when I was still fairly young, and re-visiting Norway in spring 2006, I find myself nodding along to this article which lists not one but THREE Scandinavian countries in the top four countries for “taking the greatest care of their environment and their people”. Having seen the odd documentary about Iceland, however, I do wonder। No doubt though that one must at least actually visit a country to make one’s own mind up. Tourists will consistently meet only one side of a country. My recent trip to Norway did however reinforce what as a child I sort of “felt” years ago – here is a country that knows how to milk the best from its resources (and cows) – apparently pretty sustainably (I admired their in-store recycling facilities, for example) and treats its people very well. Apart from the food. And apparently, it’s not great to live there not if you happen to fall foul of the stringent laws. I have no experience of the latter and hope not to, but it’s a point worth examining – no good having a nice life generally if you occasionally got locked away for parking in the wrong spot! Laws are set up to protect the majority, who don’t step out of line, but everyone messes up sometimes.

Best way to get to know a country is obviously to live there for a while (and work presumably, unless you are a lucky person). Ok say it’s beautiful. Being surrounded by beauty is nice, and certainly helps with your general spirits, getting up in the morning etc. but it doesn’t help if you can’t get along with the people, for example. So, what are the people really like, once you get to know them, their attitudes to you new people/foreigners/strangers (you), and what about the food, what about those little things that add up on the bad days, what about the services? Beauty doesn’t pay the bills. Conversely, and an extreme example to make this point - I have friends and family who’ve visited some of the most poverty-stricken places in the world, like the Favelas (slums) of Rio, and noted a wonderful sense of community and bonding, even optimism. To many kind, charitable people that sort of thing might even outweigh the downsides and fill their hearts more with happiness than sadness. I reckon it might break my empathetic (pathetic?!) spirit. Anyway I digress. The point is, what if you get to your chosen new country and find you can’t work in your chosen profession, or there simply isn’t a market for the wind-vanes that you wanted to make in your retirement?

If we are talking purely about the look of a place, I find Scandinavia really picturesque, some of it truly stunning. Surely Norway must be one of the most beautiful places on earth. I long to visit there again, next time with snow! I love the classic christmas/faerytale look, the spectacular swooping hills, mountains and valleys, the glassy lakes and fjords, the lush green fields. I feel warmly about the architecture that’s full of slopes, nooks and crannies, and natural wood.

When it comes to environmental considerations - that is, how a country treats its environment, I was surprised to see Australia there at spot number eight। With the amount of large and old vehicles, no MOT requirements last time I checked, and long distance journeys that are almost a requirement, not to mention the considerably cheaper fuel, I wondered if the survey was really taking the environment that much into account. Surely Australia won’t suddenly be meeting its Kyoto targets, and it has a very high carbon footprint per capita. Then there’s the diminishing coral reefs, and massive drought problems all over, resulting in issues such as salinity, for example in the Murray-Darling Basin. However, Australia is without doubt a fairly low-stress, low cost, chilled out place to live, with most places offering relatively traffic- and queue- free living with a lot of access to reasonably priced nice things, for example, individually styled houses, sports facilities, and international dining, particularly in Melbourne. I think Australia must offer some of the best climates in the world in certain pockets, but being huge, obviously it’s not the same all over. For my tastes Tasmania has nice weather.

Finally, no surprise to see Asian mega-cities in the worst positions. But has air quality (which is by all accounts atrocious in those places) swayed results considerably in one direction. How do places like ex-Eastern block countries fair? Also, how would poor but happy places fair? Back to my earlier point, to some tourists, the sight of families lining the slum streets of Rwanda, waving and smiling at tourist buses flying by, and your arms aching from waving so much, opens up a can of worms: a new way of living life that could prove more captivating and engrossing than anything a comfortable life can offer.

I do suspect there are a lot of places that slip between the cracks in these surveys, sometimes the classic “standout” holiday destinations might monopolise the results somewhat in their favour, whilst humbler hosts keep their their secret gems quiet.

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit imaginaryband.com or duncanalex.com

Can’t beat quality of life in Scandinavia, says world ranking Thu Sep 20, 11:18 AM ET
PARIS (AFP) - Nordic countries take the greatest care of their environment and their people, according to a ranking published on Thursday by the publication Reader’s Digest.
Finland comes top of the 141-nation list, followed by Iceland, Norway and Sweden, and then Austria, Switzerland, Ireland and Australia.
At the bottom of the list is Ethiopia, preceded by Niger, Sierra Leone, Burkina Faso and Chad.
The United States comes in 23rd, China 84th and India 104th.
The ranking combines environmental factors, such as air and water quality, respect for biodiversity and greenhouse-gas emissions, as well as social factors, such as gross domestic product, access to education, unemployment rate and life expectancy.
The statistical basis is the UN’s Human Development Index and the Environmental Sustainability Index drawn up by Yale and Columbia universities and the World Economic Forum.
European countries — again, led by Scandinavia — also top the Reader’s Digest assessment of 72 cities for their quality of life. The criteria for this include public transport, parks, air quality, rubbish recycling and the price of electricity.
The winner is Stockholm, followed by Oslo, Munich and Paris.
Asia’s mega-cities fare the worst. At the bottom is Beijing, preceded by Shanghai, Mumbai, Guangzhou and Bangkok.

Also pertaining to this article is one about women in Norwegian companies…
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/7176879.stm

As background to the first article, I thought I’d check, because it is interesting to see who shapes the opinions of the world - who owns Reader’s Digest?It is Ripplewood. Ripplewood is an American private equity firm that manages more than $10 billion in capital. Ripplewood was founded by its current CEO, Tim Collins. The company’s main interests range from telecommunications to banking to entertainment.It has recently purchased the Power systems division from Alcatel and has renamed it SAFT Power Systems. It is the holder of widely-recognised brands of industrial products such as Harmer+Simmons, AEG SVS, SAFT, etc. In November, 2006, Ripplewood led a private-equity consortium (a “club deal”) in the $2.4 billion leveraged buyout of Reader’s Digest.
The company is currently active in European markets as well, where it owns (amongst others) HONSEL INTERNATIONAL TECHNOLOGIES S.A.
In Japan, Ripplewood is known for its acquisition of Seagia in Miyazaki, Japan, the successful turn-around and IPO of Shinsei Bank and the acquisition and quick turn-around sale of Japan Telecom. Aside from its Shinsei Bank success, the firm’s other investments in Japan are considered to require longer-than-expected holding time

2008-01-12T14:06:00.000-08:00

The Jarvis Nebulae Files - Part Five

© Duncan Wheeler 1997-2008

The smell of hospital strength detergent nearly brought my stomach contents up. But I couldn’t remember my last meal.

One thing I did remember however, was a vague sense of shame, and I knew it wasn't because I was naked in a public place. Not that I was hanging out on a pole suspended above a mosh pit or anything, I did have sheets between my personage and the general viewing public. It just felt kind of weird. Then the young, extremely attractive nurse came in and my schoolboy fantasies escalated.

My mind raced in an effort to escape yet more embarrassment. Unfortunately it raced in the wrong direction, and in this respect Fantasy Man was very fit - and despite how hard tubby Reason rotated his stumpy legs and sweated like a pig, he could not catch up. Fantasy Man hurled insults which quite hurt Reason’s feelings and stalled him, because he couldn’t help thinking about whether or not such terrible things were true.

Then Fantasy Man, well in the lead now, had time to leave traps for Reason, like this one which he thought was really clever: "fantasising abut this drop-dead gorgeous nurse will make your stay in hospital all the more enjoyable, and thus revitalise and heal you quicker". So of course, Fantasy Man ran the race, won hands down, and escaped without a scratch. Testosterone levels peaked, and so, inevitably, did the bed sheets.

So it was maybe an hour after the nurse had left the room that the juices stopped flowing, and the useless piece of brain fondly known as Reason puffed and panted his case to Vortag, Supreme Ruler Of The Neuron. Vortag did not deign to feign gratitude, he only replied, "It has already come to my attention, you worthless tiny little globule of rubber, by the esteemed grace of Ego, that this woman of whom you speak would make a complete fool of you within two seconds of you opening your mouth. So your whiney observations are rendered completely invalid. Like you!" he sat back and a pleased look entered his otherwise agitated face.

"So, you ask, how could this women destroy your very presence? Shut Up! I didn't say you could speak! Shutup! Shutup! You are a remarkable specimen of redundancy and have little time for you. So let me take only two examples of your last conscious efforts at tackling life!!! One: You have absolutely no answer, not even an insult worth mentioning, for a rowdy heard of walking meat lockers protecting their baby. Two, you have no comprehension that attacking a calf, for its skin, is a completely socially unacceptable manner in which to gain clothing. And might I also point out as a bonus for your collection, Kaptain Kill, that the Cave Dwellers Society of Tasmania is nothing more than a fancy-dress party for University Arts School students next to whose intelligence yours is nothing but that of an Amoeba."

Crestfallen, Reason ran away, found a suitable corner of the mind, and burst into tears. Despite the connotations of a supposedly logical and fundamental extension being allowed such silliness. In fact his own feelings were in disarray.

But I don’t want to dwell too much upon the massively efficient bulbous grey blob in my skull. Back to my predicament: What was I doing in hospital? Did someone know something about how I got here? Why did I have large, blunt-looking indentations in my arms.

Then the doctor came in, with a king-size smirk on his face. "Are you enjoying your stay?", he asked.

Taken aback, I said, "Very much"2 thinking of the nurse.

"Yes, well, we are quite enjoying your stay too..." he said, and looked as though he were about to burst into laughter.

"We’re having a cow of a time!"

"We are really stoked, or should that be, steaked about having you!" [accompanied by an involuntary wave of his hand in the air]

"Anyway, sonny, after we picked you up off the rocks, we rang your family to get permission because we had to use a road-drill to open up your incredibly thick skull. They said they didn’t know who you were, and had had enough of that shit to last a lifetime, but we managed to get some of your old medical files they were about to throw out along with some toys."

... this was leading somewhere, and I wasn't sure where, but I didn't like it.

"In the process we came across some old intelligence test records..."

My head needed itching. So I scratched it.

"You know, you're pretty smart..." - losing interest I looked towards the window, but couldn't help noticing the doctor was positively spewing saliva,

"...FOR AN ORANGUTAN!!!!!!" he yelled, and overjoyed at his statement, spontaneously collapsed about the room, knocking over trays, vases, a table, and, unfortunately, my life support system... But I was calm, I was ready to go peacefully this time, to leave this world, drift into the clouds and fly free as a bird into the happy land above.

Then I had a dream. And a dream I had. That I did, and it was a dream.

The end of part one of the Jarvis Nebulae Files .

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit:
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2008-01-05T06:15:00.001-08:00

Duncan Alex

2008-01-03T15:14:00.001-08:00

2007-12-13T05:58:00.000-08:00

The Jarvis Nebulae Files - Part Four

© Duncan Wheeler 1997-2007

The Cave Dwellers Society of Tasmania is a highly respected underground organisation that reaches into the upper echelons of the business world. In fact it leaves virtually no occupation untouched, with members in every field from Engineering to Art, Commerce to Psychology, Politics to Music. It was a bright winter Sunday outside, and my recycled baked beans were cold when I spotted the newspaper ad for the meeting, and decided upon infiltrating this enviable club which apparently offers great benefits to cross-country travellers, among other things. The ad was written in code of course, as a stringent screening process keeps out the muck. It was disguised as one for an escort agency.

A subtle difference between the lady in the picture and the normal escort ads was that the lady pictured had a receding forehead, really big gums and one or two teeth missing.

When I looked closely at the picture, past the woman, on the wall behind I saw the silhouette of a man with a club. At first I thought perhaps that it was an attempt at honest advertising, but woe-be-to-me my youthful idealism was soon quenched by the waters of my swiss-precision clockwork brain.

Because the wording was also slightly different from the usual. Instead of, "Attractive young babes available - very discreet, personal service" it actually said, "Attractive worn caves available - very distant, pretty good service if you1re used to waiting for about five days for your pizza". You see, not the average eye could pick that up.

Anyway, it was without hesitation then that I called the number and thus entered the world of the CDS. Unbeknownst to them, Jarvis Nebulae would soon be in their midst, scraping charcoal from cave ceilings and learning secret rock-chipping skills. I didn1t give them my real name, I told them I was the Lord Mayor, and I was planning a solo camping holiday across in the wilderness in order to bring my spirits back to the basic levels.

The first thing I had to do before joining was to clothe myself properly, in order not to stand out from the other members, and in the confines of a semi-rural outer city suburb there was really only one option.

A fine breath-like mist had clogged my glasses by the time I reached the paddock where at least fifty of your classic black and white dappled cows were cautiously eyeing me over their tasty meals of crud, sorry, cud. I was sweating profusely, partly from the exertion of carrying a five-foot solid Huon club (which I'd fashioned from my parents' coffee table) up a 35 degree slope. Partly because, well, I1ve never killed anything that big before.

A man has to do what a man has to do, and I summoned up the courage. Then I looked for the smallest calf I could find so that it couldn1t fight back if things got nasty. There! A pathetic little critter the size of a large dog, but with no teeth and no brain. Still, I approached cautiously, remembering my late teenage conquests of killer ants in the playground. Then I did a magnificent war-cry and ran at him brandishing the club over my head. But in an instant, I was surrounded by half a dozen cows, dropping big piles of soggy green poo from their buttocks which splashed up off the hard ground onto my brown leather pants. If they poo that bloody much, why don1t they just cut down on the food?

I looked at my pants, which were finished. Then I realised the calf was out of sight, and I ran for the nearest exit, but a cow swayed in my direction as I attempted to escape. It was then that I saw something in its big black eye that troubled me. It had a... I wouldn1t say mean... but a slightly less passive and dumb look in its eye. In my shock I ran to the other side of the ring of cows, but the same happened again, and this time it was closer, and when I reversed around again, the ring was silently closing in on me, all of their normally docile and fearful eyes simply glistening with... with mild unpassiveness. What was happening? This sort of display of intelligence was worrying. Normally cows couldn1t put up a fight against a toaster in a game of chess.

As panic rose in my heaving chest, I stood on my head and tried to summon my spirit guidance officer from Zoon, but the reception was bad on this hill (why, of all the dewy meadows?), and I was forced to give up. But I was still standing on my head when the leader of the cows (yes! - it amazed me too that there was a BLOODY LEADER) saw an opportunity and made a wily move towards me and grabbed my foot in its mouth. The others soon joined in and as I screamed for my mummy they carried me across the paddock towards some rapids. These fat-arsed skinny-legged creatures couldn1t do the Riverdance if their last mouthful of grass was marijuana, and here they were about to waste me on some rocks.

As they carried me down the bank to a crescendo of rushing water, I was starting to lose my pride. My throbbing head was filled with my advanced blood type. Why was my renowned super-spy-like resourcefulness failing me now? Cows couldn1t rally a rebellion against the grass if the quantity of poo exiting their bums correlated with intelligence! The big fat dumb-arsed herbivorous quadrupeds couldn1t... I realised the futility of trying to figure out an insult for them and thought hard, harder than I1d ever thought before.

As they threw me into the river I remember crying one last, "I'LL SEE YOU IN MY NEXT MEAL!!!! HA HAA HHAAAA!!!" before complete darkness enveloped my being.

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit imaginaryband.com or duncanalex.com

2007-12-05T09:30:00.001-08:00

Do you only use iTunes? Do you consider other sites?
Have you ever used Musicane, 7Digital, Nimbot, Hoooka, SNOCAP etc.?
I only recently discovered these sites! From a creators point of view they seem theoretically to be a brilliant way to easily distribute and sell your music mp3s online. On many you can even set your price very cheap (some of mine are FREE, some are 15 cents).

[Indie artists see this really useful comparison site: http://www.hometracked.com/2007/06/27/music-sales-widget-feature-comparison/ ]

I'm also wondering if anyone else has any experience of using such artist-self-distribution sites or whether people would consider buying from them. As a buyer OR creator of music, do you think it is a losing game and does an artist really have to be on Apple's iTunes and already have tonnes of fans to even make enough to reach the point where the artist gets anything back from the site (usually a minimum annual payment threshold of around US$15 or maybe UK £10 ish).

I've dived right in and tried two of them but so far no sales, not that I expected any, because as with anything the trick is to get traffic to your site in the first place.

From my point of view the Musicane one is pretty cool because it allows me to let anyone re-sell my music and garner 20% (or whatever I choose) of the profits. But I can't get it to accept my UK credit card - I had to try it to see if it worked!

If anyone would like to share stores and a cut of the profits please get in touch by the way via myspace.com/duncanalex.

Did you know that you can now buy Duncan Alex songs & videos from
0 (FREE) to US15cents to UK0.77p on: http://www.duncanalex.com

2007-12-02T13:59:00.000-08:00

The Jarvis Nebulae Files - Part Three (other parts to follow)

© Duncan Wheeler 1997-2007

Have you ever wondered where possums sleep during the day? I mean, this is a country with really thin trees with really small leaves and somehow there are thousands of fat furry brown things the size of petrol cans supposedly hanging off these supermodel- proportioned trees during broad daylight, which by the way is some of the brightest daylight in the world. And nobody sees them. Let me ask you one thing - have YOU ever seen them during the daylight? So where do they go? That's a very good question.

Since visiting my local government department who told me, "well, they're just very good at hiding", I believe I have uncovered a conspiracy regarding the whereabouts of these oversized rats during our normal working hours. Upon hearing the ridiculous suggestion of an animal being very good at hiding (how can you hide when you look like a giant meatball with fur?) I immediately set to the public library where I found some interesting pictures. I don't know why they have pictures of men feeling naked women's breasts in books on art, but it sure makes interesting reading. I found it quite difficult to remain focussed on the task at hand, especially as the lady sitting in front of me was wearing nothing but clothes. Eventually I forced myself to find the Little Furry Creatures Section, which by happenstance was exactly next to the books on artistic voyeurism. That's quite strange really, but I immediately found the pictures of the little creatures quite appealing.

Very soon, however, after looking at photo after photo of terribly frightened and sickeningly cute wide-eyed fuzzballs, I had to fight the rising feeling of revulsion. It was all the more abhorrent as I thought about how well these seemingly harmless, helpless creatures were exploiting the well-known human tendency to anthropomorphise cuddly critters. It was the ideal cover for a race of UTUFO-flying interlopers. Yes, my theory as I see it now is undeniable and incontrovertible but of course, as with all theories, unprovable.

Let me explain piece-by-piece the elements of my theory: You want to know where they go during the daytime? The little poo-coloured monsters go underground, like poo, and don1t come out until they see the dark, the opposite of poo. Ever wondered why their eyes are red? Because, my friends their eyes are not really eyes, they are infrared remote controls for the security systems on their flying vehicles. Now, to address the problem of them flying underground, well don1t you see, it all makes sense now - I have seen a UTUFO myself, with my own eyes, on the underground express route. Ah, there1s no denying it! I'm onto something, alright.

Call me Jarvis: P.I., or Jarvis: poet laureate...perhaps Jarvis: living legend, but just call me, WOMEN, please just... no, I mustn1t beg... Look, baby, if you think I'm somewhat of a genius trapped inside a gorgeously understated body, just, you know, c'mon over and, well, I'll come on over too. Aw, I know, honey... just try and calm down... take those clothes off slowly.. we've got all night then, well I gotta do what a man's gotta do, with another chick in the South of France...yeah...look I'm sorry, HEY !? oh, no, don't go...no! I was just, talking to myself, no pretty lady, please don't turn into a fat furry creature and start climbing a tree , no ..no ..no .....NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Damn those bloody creatures! They're starting to really intrude, messing with my mind like that in my most private James Bond fantasies. Well, I'll have to try the Scully and Mulder fantasy then:

Look Mulder! He's spouting black gelatinous liquid from his eyes!

You want to know what I think?

You're not going to tell me that it's the leftover of an alien rock from a meteorite that crashed into the earth 60 million years ago during the Jurassic period and annihilated the entire dinosaur species, and thereafter led to the creation of a cross-species of possessed humans who were, with the advent of advanced genetic tinkering this century, improperly cloned in an attempt to discover how to make a photosynthesising humanoid-alien breed in case we run out of food on planet earth?

No Scully, I was going to say, oh how beautiful you look in that close-fitting grey cloth suit today.

Oh Mulder, why do you tease me, when you know I...

Shut up and take your clothes off Scully, you little sex-pot.

Oh Mulder, why...

Cmon, babe, every other woman in the world would die to see me in those red speedos again, so why don't I just take off my trousers, matter of fact - I've got my red beauties on right now - wanna see?

Oh Mulder, I...think you're undergoing some sort of transformation...

You bet I am sugar...

No, you're turning all small and furry

Now, that's not nice, Scully...

No, really! Look in the mirror - it's...uugghh, it's horrible!!!!!!

God damn it even this no-fail fantasy isn't working...I .......j.........just ......can't make it work.......ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have decided to dedicate my life to uncovering those UTUFOs. No matter where they go I WILL find them, and they can be sure, that when they decide to unleash thousands of small forest animals upon the cities, I Jarvis, KNOW ABOUT THEM! Forewarned is forarmed, suckers!!

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit:
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2007-11-27T07:00:00.000-08:00

Radiohead’s new album “In Rainbows” available for free*! - Marketing in the New (new new) Digital Age

(*Well actually, 45p, but who’s counting)

If there’s anyone in the world right now who seems to completely understand the power of digital distribution, apart from Apple, it’s Radiohead. Practically speaking, what a brilliant marketing move.

This sort of story has its own legs. It promotes furious debate and discussion. It transcends the internet into the real world. It allows, nay, necessitates, the collection of a massive email mailing list - plausibly millions of fans and potential fans. Many people are going to be new to Radiohead but because the album’s free, will of course give it a whirl.

In short, there is no need for Radiohead to spend money to advertise, promote or do any of the things that normally need to happen in the real (or virtual) world to move units. And the in-store sales appear almost an afterthought for these guys nowadays.

Furthermore, record companies usually take a massive percentage of any normally signed artist’s sales, often leaving them with only a small percentage (I’ve heard 1 or 2% sometimes ) of the proceeds anyway. 45p might actually be more than Radiohead previously got from Parlophone. Again - a wise move.

They didn’t even need to (or appear to) go to much effort making the website look super (or even mildly) professional. As a huge fan of Radiohead’s music I’ve visited their pages from time to time particularly during the ”Kid A” phase, so I’m familiar with the idiosyncratic syntax and curious code that graces their website, but the page they used to accept my order for the new Radiohead album was still slightly odd and felt unofficial!

Anyway… no way that’s going to get in the way of new Radiohead music pouring into my eager ears. I downloaded it. I only paid £1.45 – yes as a fan I feel slightly ashamed, but to offset this I did tell a lot of mates to go and download it, many of whom have, so as I look at it, I did quite a lot of free promotion for Radiohead, because they are such nice chaps. Plus Thom Yorke downloaded it for free too ;).

That’s the practicalities for now.

From a philosophical point of view it brings into question the value of music to the listener and seriously highlights the over-pricing that I believe iTunes has promoted. Who says 79p (in the UK) for one song is the right price? Apparently the consumer, according to iTunes sales figures. It’s too much, I believe, even in comparison to physical CD units which are already overpriced. New chart-topping CDs usually sell for about £8, for on average 10-12 songs. Less than 79p per song. But you also get a CD that’s playable in most devices, CD quality music, a CD case and importantly, artwork. Plus sometimes there’s quite substantial bonuses such as DVDs. Granted, unless you’re talking about high-quality artists, a lot of songs can be “fillers”.

Back to the new Radiohead album, ”In Rainbows”. I believe, having not heard the second CD, that some of the first, “free” CD, is filler. Not easily said, because as I’ve mentioned I’m a massive fan. The album feels incomplete, too soft and mellow, uneventful even, and unbalanced. Radiohead, I believe, know what they’re doing. Usually they will put together a kick-ass combination to make an album feel complete. I suspect the non-free stuff on CD 2 has a few more rocking tunes like 15 Step and Bodysnatchers, the introductory 1-2 punch which account for my favourites from “In Rainbows”.

There’s some nice tunes, catchy melodies, interesting lyrics, but of all their albums except “Pablo Honey” this is the one I’d listen to the least. I remember hearing a replay of Radiohead’s classic Glastonbury set back in 1997 (I think) and then soon afterwards buying “OK Computer” and being so blown away and excited that, despite the time of night (around midnight when I started) I listened to it in total rapture from start to finish, twice. THIS was the music I’d always wanted to hear and had been missing for years. THIS was the future. “In Rainbows” first two tracks captures some of that excitement still (not bad going ten years on mind you) but doesn’t stand up, IMHO. Still, by any other band’s standards, a high-quality bunch of tunes delivered nicely. Though, ah, I feel I should talk about “10,000 Days” and Tool, who are another penultimate band for me, but I’ll save it for another thread. Then there’s my relatively recent attachment to Led Zeppelin… then there’s…

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2007-11-27T03:42:00.000-08:00

Federer versus Sampras: He who laughs last...?

As a tennis fan - what did you think of this series of three matches?*
For my part, when I heard about this earlier in the year I was pretty excited. And nervous. Federer is to me the greatest tennis player to have lived. All I had to do to make this decision was watch Sampras and Federer's only professional match - Wimbledon back in 2001, where Federer, a young and incomplete player, faced the master of grass(ter) yet still looked the cooler player all round. Despite Sampras' characteristic nonchalance, Federer out-aced and soundly matched Sampras throughout then beat the Defending Champion in the fifth set.

Actually I think Federer had Sampras beaten earlier in the match - to me he looked like a winner throughout. Sampras was battling like a champ obviously, all credit to him, coming off some bad form earlier in the tournament. What really interested me was the manner that Federer actually beat Pete - i.e. at his own game - this really thrilled me to see. Because he can do it all. I think he actually enjoys emulating the game style of his opponents, that is - as he plays them in real-time! In Roland Garros, Federer looks like a different player - a clay-courter. That he's come acropper against the best ever clay-court player, Nadal, is merely unfortunate timing, just as is Nadal's remaining at number 2 and forever meeting and losing to Federer in Wimbledon. Like Nadal says jokingly but not that modestly - perhaps he is the best Number two player in history! I think both players will win the other's "home grounds" at some point, but I digress.

This Sampras vs Federer series of Asian exhibition matches, money and sponsorship aside, was a great idea for promoting excitement about the sport. I still really have a lot of time to watch the Master at work, but I have to agree that men's tennis in general has become a little bit of a one-man show of "Who can beat Federer?" - obviously when a player's that good, the big news becomes the times when he loses, as recently occurred in two matches in a row against David Nalbandian. That brings to mind - have you heard about the giant billboard of Nalbandian falling down near someone - I need to look that up on YouTube! Again I digress...

From the scorelines, match descriptions and player media briefings in the Asian seris, I can see some proof that the oldies - particularly a great oldie holding the record of Grand Slams, can hang tough with the current tennis generation. And in the case of their final match of the series, beat the world number one Roger Federer. Wow.

I haven't seen the match and shockingly even my tennis mates have failed to deliver on this front with any recordings ;) but as someone who believes Federer the greatest ever, I am surprised whilst at the same time realising that tennis at their level is always a matter of micro-scorelines and very small differences, and that exhibition matches are not in any way the "real thing" I would have thought a little bit of pride and ego creeps in!

For now, perhaps Sampras has the last word. And perhaps, as Federer described being "a bit surprised" he will focus a bit more next time! Slacker! Federer has said "I want to get him back"! Personally, while Sampras can still hold his own, I'd pay to see that!

*This article is based on the evidence I've read throughout the web - I want to actually SEE the evidence for myself - i.e. the whole series of three matches! YouTube here I come...

UPDATED:
Free to watch the Sampras Federer match?

I've not checked this site yet but will definitely be trying it out!: http://www.thetennischannel.com

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit:
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2007-11-26T07:58:00.000-08:00

The Jarvis Nebulae Files - Part Two (other parts to follow)

© Duncan Wheeler 1997-2007

Here's a poem I wrote to commemorate a special event that happened to me last Sunday night:
The stars, the stars, the cars and the bars,
Twitching under my itchy palms
On the roof while looking afar
I made a fire that blew afar
It went into the highest stars
And made my heart begin to start
The stars, the stars, the cars and the bars,
Ha ha, Ha ha, to squish in a jar - don't laugh
For the stars, the stars, the cars and the bars
Nasty cross-dimensional travellers behind bars
Into the future and into the past - how bizarre
You'll never get me cos I'm Jarvis
I'll fill your craft with rotten tar and laugh Ha Ha!

I'm just a bit worried because, although it rhymes perfectly and in the most subtle and elegant way, the second verse just carried me away so much that I couldn't condense it into six lines to match the first verse. I1m sure you'll appreciate that talent such as mine cannot be defined by conventional writing rules, nor can it be cramped by horrible experiences - indeed, it seems to have blossomed.

You'll note my cleverly obtuse references to the UTUFO I sighted on the sickly underground journey, but they probably disguise the fact that I am still reeling somewhat from the event. I haven1t had a good night's sleep for a week now, and those "No Doze" tablets my caring neighbours keep recommending probably weren1t designed for someone with my superior physiology. Being entirely hairless is a sure sign of advanced evolution in the human species (since we will have clothes, heating and houses to protect us from the cold from now on and into the foreseeable future).

Not that I require the smallest shred of covering to remain warm and comfortable! You see, much to my neverending amazement at the wonder that is me, I discovered another undeveloped talent within myself when I rubbed my hands together on the roof of my house. Might I point out at this conjecture, that my roof is magnificently understated. Just as the house is magnificently understated. Just as I am magnificently understated. So understated is my house that in fact, after the doorbell has rung, I usually find visitors kindly waiting for me in the cellar, which is directly below the minimalist front porch. They often seem to have a quietly impressed and subdued look upon their faces. Indeed, when I offered a baked bean sandwich to the postman last Thursday, he was so awe struck by his surrounds that he ran upstairs, out the front door, and then did it again, twice, before eloping out the back window. Such behaviour is not unusual in my humble but striking abode. I am rather proud of the knife display hanging like a chandelier from the entrance hall ceiling.

To return to my tale of undiscovered talent, however, I was on the roof and as usual I was watching the neighbours dancing around the garden in their underwear. As I dreamed of chateaus, big gates with big black knobs on them, and really cute tea-cosies, the friction caused between my itchy palms set alight the thatched tiling. Fortunately next door were cooking over a bonfire so they didn1t notice my little outburst. I have noticed that cooking dinner for most seems to be an all-engrossing procedure. I personally take little fuss over it, having discovered a fantastic book by an old Antarctic explorer detailing the world's greatest baked beans recipes. You know, my household runs like a smoothly oiled laxative pill, is highly efficient and environmentally friendly - I have no waste because I eat everything. It is a real shame I am not hooked up to the council's sewage and water systems because if I were, my bills would be so small they would have to pay me!

The only disadvantage of not being connected to the Council's services, and the first time one has arisen, was that I could not put out the fire I had started. Not immediately, anyway. I stomped on it, I threw a towel over it, and I poured methylated spirits on it, then even soaked the towel in methylated spirits and threw it down upon the burning tiles in an effort to suppress the mighty flames. It was at that point that I felt the hand of God. Perhaps not God himself, maybe one of his proteges, maybe the aliens I had encountered in the underground envelope. It was remarkable all the same. It began to rain. It rained so hard my pants fell down under the weight of the water they'd absorbed. I wish I had checked out my neighbour's 19 year-old daughter in the garden next door at that point, but I was too busy trying not too slide down onto their woodpile along with my roof tiles and a plastic armchair.

It was with my hands wrapped around my chimney, my bare butt pointing towards the neighbours, and a small fire gradually falling off my roof into the neighbours' garden, that I discovered something incredibly profound about myself. Something that I had never dwelt upon before this absolutely clarifying event was thrust upon my weary shoulders. Something that the neurons firing commonly used pathways in my brain had been planning and coordinating based on years of experience. It had to be true, I realised: I like big breasts.

For more randomness in the form of thoughts, stories, music and videos, visit:
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2007-11-19T09:09:00.000-08:00

The Jarvis Nebulae Files - Part One (other parts to follow)

© Duncan Wheeler 1997-2007

I was on my way back from a solo camping trip in the middle Highlands. I had been on the overland track for three days and somehow I kept passing the same bunch of Americans in their campsite on the shores of a lake. They must have been three steps ahead of me the entire time. I became sick of them laughing at me behind my back whenever I stumbled upon their camp every couple of hours (why they changed camp so often is beyond me) so I decided to head back to the car park, which amazingly was very close-by despite the fact that it had taken three days' steady walking to get to where I was. However, the real treat of my journey came on the trip home.

From the dusty window of my private compartment in the underground sonic bullet train connecting Hobart1s waterfront University to the Cradle Mountain Lodge, I noticed something quite unusual. Perhaps my usual habit of getting completely wasted in the restaurant car for the entire nauseating journey had never allowed me the option of seeing out of my window. Come to think of it, of seeing anything at all.

Anyway, even to eyes such has mine, unaccustomed as they were to the sights of the transcontinental underworld route, something in particular struck me as somehow wrong down there. I was just having a coffee, black no sugar, as suggested to me by my psychiatrist after the cold turkey situation, and biting into a very small smoked salmon and avocado sandwich. Incredibly small, it was. I could hold it between finger and thumb. The presence of the hot beverage, anyhow, tempted me to breath steam onto the window and draw pictures of breasts, which for some reason I find extremely satisfying and relaxing. I was in the middle of my third perfect pair for the day (size 56) when, through the nipple I saw a bright green light flash past the train in the dimly lit tunnel outside.

At first I thought, well, it's obviously a "go" signal - likely to be found at or near intersections such as the one shooting off to Swansea that the train must have just passed.” All very well and good", my consciousness said. I happily blew steam and drew breasts for another few minutes before the waitress came to my table and asked if I would like another drink.

I replied "No, thank you, but you know what I would really like, apart from dragging the stars from the skies and pulling out your eyes...” (Sweetest smile I could manage)

"...And that is your phone number..."

By which stage she had seen my steamy breast pictures on the window and blown any chance I might have had. Briefly she looked at me as if I was a cross between a dangerous criminal brandishing an extremely big weapon and a tiny little cutesy dog, and whirled off to the next table.

It was at that moment that I realised what had bothered my under worked sub conscious mind (whilst my overworked conscious mind packed it in) a few minutes earlier. Instead of heading from the front of the train to rear, the weird green light had moved in the opposite direction, implying that it was moving faster than the train! "Baloney!", said my new waiter. How I love it; best-tasting fish-type crap I've ever had! I chomped into my pile of food, completely forgetting, indeed, repressing [twilight zone music] my strange and wonderful encounter with the unknown.

It was later on that night whilst watching the X-files on video that my repressed memory surfaced again (usually it takes years). I realised what I had seen. It was a UFO. In an underground tunnel.

I had been witness to the world1s first Underground Tunnel Unidentified Flying Omission. I would coin the abbreviation UTUFO. I would be "UTUFO" to the world, Jarvis to my friends.

I was gonna be rich! Newspapers and tabloids would be after me, offering any sum of money for my story. Maybe my especially close family would come to accept me again for the first time after our dispute over my brother's marriage with our cousin. And women would come rushing... and then see me and rush away again.

But I would be rich!!! Rubbing my itchy palms together whilst I thought of all the possibilities, I caused an accidental fire on the roof of my house. "Why was I on the roof" you ask; well that1s another story - perhaps another time. But I soon got back to thinking in a trance-like state about the future. A world of limousines and magazine covers, call-women and big dogs.

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