Wormit Why Thank You!

A short while ago I visited you out of impulse to discover you had some wonderful sights to see...

You gave me architecture beyond the industrial brutality of Dundee...

And you gave me my favourite shot of it too.

The details of your parks excite my photographer's organ...

And you made me want to buy my own little castle.

You fed my rust obsession...

And made me want all streets to look like this.

You took me far from Dundee.

Dundee was certainly given a different shine from the other side of the Tay.

Today's journey was again borne almost out of whim. My less than favourable stress levels and resultant chaotic episodes necessitated a return to my old excercising self in order to quell the manic level of RLA, or Real-Life-Anxiety that I presumed was the basis for my desire to drink and perpetuate my less than ameniable attitude to myself and life in general.

My sense of exploration looked out of my kitchen window and across the Tay Bridge. Wormit shall be my destination and beyond that, I have heard rumours of pastoral and woodland, meandering trails seen from the train as you are swiftly swept between the big cities of Scotland.

A late start to the day seemed to have scuppered my chances but following an afternoon coffee I threw on my shorts grabbed a bag and leapt into the road. Instantly I was excited to be back on a proper (ish) ride, running out of Perth Rd I cut right, onto the little trail that I thought remained beside Grouchos, there's nothing left of it and by misjudging the hedge-gap at the end I ensured it was a proper ride.

Colliding with the fence allowed the big cog up front to make itself known on the back of my calf. Embarrassing injury aside I cranked onwards up the lift onto the bridge, my trackstand skills pitifully out of practise.

Once upon the bridge I drew in the view, I quickly recognised the suffering of returning from long exercise-free periods, this was good, I knew I could push on through it and relish in my smoke-free lungs. I cruised through Wormit, enjoying the sites I'd first seen, noticing new ones but willing myself to keep the rhythm up until I had made good distance. Passing out of Wormit I found myself spotting farms and the tracks that wound up the hills around them, all I had to do was find my way up them and the route down would sort itself out.

Continuing along the main road I recognised some of what I had seen from the train and shot out in that direction before getting distracted by a cosy, moss covered road heading up a hill I had espied before.

Instantly I felt enclosed by the countryside, the noise of the A92 dulled and the comforting green mass of nature cushioned my senses. A short and simple climb was topped by the gorgeous Sandford House, the grand window causing an exclamation to escape my lips. Stopping for a drink and to peruse the view I was approached by one of the residents who very kindly pointed out the path to Gauldry, a discreet route that would take me over the hill itself, I thanked her, somewhat bemused by her friendliness.

As I grabbed a photo of the window that had caught my eye on the way up I was approached by the owner of Sandford House itself, doing a little afternoon gardening. She told a short history and the plans for creating self-catered holiday homes, take note, it's certainly a gorgeous place to stay. She also mentioned that the area I had seen from the train had a good network of paths, bloody excellent news! I decided to head for my initial goal and save the Gauldy route for another day, unsure of its difficulty and distance I had photo opportunities on my mind

With the mentality I had inhabited for the past few weeks I had completely forgotten about the places where strangers say hello as they pass. Being on the bike changed that; most cyclists greet each other anyway but being approached with smiles and not scowls was something that had thrown me into confusion for a good minute or so. It felt different out here and I was so happy for that.

Onwards! I pushed off and sped down the slick driveway, throwing a couple of sketchy skids into the mix as the grin grew across my face. I popped out onto the road, zipped past the Moffat and Williamson bus garage and was instantly atop more mossy tarmac, the old main road forging a path for me towards the woods. Once more nature encroached upon the old work of industrious mankind, I wasn't going to be exploring abandoned industries today though. What I found instead was a gorgeous bit of singletrack, overgrown, rooty and just a little bit technical, it was the perfect warm up for my rusty skills. What's more, it appeared to be just a small section of a larger network. My exclamations grew into the double digits as I rode out into an opening, this lake-view revealed beneath me.

Excuse the phone quality. Classy film photos coming soon.

A quick drink, and relax before I was back on my way. Taking the downhill path back the way I came was the most fun I have had in so many months it is hard to describe. I missed almost every smooth line, I almost threw myself off the bike on the only jump and I barely pumped a depression. It did not matter a jot because just being there, for those sixty or ninety seconds, on the edge of control and flashing past trees I forgot everything, absolutely everything that bothered me since the last time I lost myself to the two-wheeled demon. This is one reason why I love cycling.

I tested the slickness of mossy tarmac. Verdict - I do enjoy a good drift on a bike, keeps the heart racing!

I almost achieved my goal of riding across the Tay Road Bridge no-handed, a goal I only realised today. Old-Man-Finger-Dancing was definitely surplus to requirements, and probably very embarassing.

Yup. I totally took that while cycling...

The final climb home stung the thighs but now I'm here I couldn't be happier.

Crank On and Enjoy Life.


Next time on Crank Chronicles... My bike got stolen... again.

Nature Calls for a Laugh

I'm standing at a bus stop, taking a piss.

Let me set the scene, my left leg rests upon the melted remains of a plastic bin, my right upon a weather-beaten fence, my genitals neatly concealed from every conceivable vantage point.

The bus arrives.

I was caught out. Having left a friends house I stood counting my change realising I was several minutes early. Without my usual companions of biker-cum-pub-quizzer I'd realised those extra impromptu beers racing through me. If i was ever going to survive the forty minutes home I would need to release the inevitable evil force amid my bladder. 

So I let go, the tension flowing free, all over the pavement.

Amidst the pitter-patter of my last beer against the slats of the fence I hear and all together different pitter-patter, that of someone running, someone about to intrude upon my personal pee session. My heart races and I question what is worse; openly urinating in front of someone at a bus stop or giving my Jeans a toilet acid wash and making the 40 minute bus ride home a whole lot worse for everyone on board.

Choosing the more charitable route I finish up comfortably and seconds later the bus arrives. I have joined the club of a lucky few

The guy standing behind me doesn't look impressed though.

Denise

14th March 2013 - A Thursday

I open my eyes to view the beauty that is dust sparkling in sunlight, a ray formed between my blind and the windowsill. The easterly orientation of the window lets me know that it is morning. My mind turns to today's tasks, no doubt something academic, what else?

As I un-fold myself upright my bookshelf of developed negatives passes through my periphery on my way to the bathroom. A checklist of photo ideas scrolls past my eyes as I note the sunshine and distinct lack of clouds as I look west. Flushing the toilet I turn on the shower and wish the water would fill my head with essays. All I'm thinking about is that my trusty SLR is too temperamental to use anymore...

Today's goal has been realised.

Belt buckled, laces tied, jacket zipped, door locked - I step energetically forth into the chill sunlight and head townwards.

Full of trepidatious anticipation I push open the door, the blue and yellow logo passing through my periphery. Down the alley lined with vacuum cleaners, towards the forest of musical instruments. My eyes are focussed behind the glass. One, two, three, camera bodies, blind and decapitated without their lenses.

My enquiries leave me disheartened, not a single lens in the shop that would mate with these bodies, nor one at home. I go to leave and search out the other Pawnlands, but wait! I hear the call and return to the desk where she awaits me.

As my eyes follow every curve I know I've seen her before, dreamt about her, longed to feel her tender grip, the sweet sound of her release...

'Denise...' I whisper ecstatically under my breath.

'Sorry?' The assistant looks at me out of the corner of her eye.

'...uh, nothing.'

Shit, they'd have a field day if they knew I already had a name for her... Denise Sloane Lolita-Reagan, our beautiful partnership has begun...

_________________________________________________________________________________

And now just a week short of our Quarter-Year Anniversary I'm going to re-cap some of our greatest moments.

March

I bought her a lens-cap, gotta keep those eyes pretty.

Dundee has some real contrast to it.

She went drinking with me.

Old signage, always pretty.

How quaint, this spray can is in love.

Magdalen Green. Finally some sun. I like the bandstand, you'll see.

April

Also got her a screen protector - safe-screen is fun screen.

All things placed in our streets should be this pretty.

I always think the night adds something to the character of a city.

Alien Grass. It's a potent illuminator.

I like that it's slightly dutch-angle, adds to the horror. Is that a person on the roof?

Phwoar! How's that for April showers!?

Our memories of WWII crumble like dragon's teeth, soon just another grain of sand.

A lonely Tentsmuir resident. Light rain is refreshing on a bike ride.

The view from my bedroom. The flare on the right hand side was a full moon and I spent hours trying to get different shots.

  

Some light sunbathing, pretending to be lost in Tentsmuir

Exercising my manly fire-making expertise. Warming beer like a numpty though.

May

Introduced her to Mr Man Frotto, sturdy chap, bit on the heavy side though. They got on like a chain and anchor, swimmingly.

It can be blue in Dundee sometimes. (Maybe I should remember to change my white balance after shooting long exposures.)

Seymour Lodge. Project Horror incomplete as of today.

I love wrought iron. Daffodils and quiet nights wandering the city.

'Hello? Why yes I did see an odd fellow wandering around with a large stick and a blue jacket.'

The jacket took on a decidedly luminescent characteristic.

Pier 23 - Home to Mr Bright-Buttocks.

Tesco and Riverside from up high. Project incomplete.

I really love light-painting.

Went on a double date with Frotto and his new partner Reme Oat. He's a very patient and quiet guy but I'm getting a sneaking suspicion that he and Denise have a strong connection, they get on very well, they even finish each other's exposures and I'm starting to think they have a passing resemblance to a certain Parks and Recreation character.

Watch this space, more to come...

Marriage, Mr Mars, and Me

So I'm obviously on a musically-related tippity-tapping-typing frenzy today because I'm at it again, this time the delightful recipient of my well-educated self is Bruno Mars - Marry You.

Bruno Mars can blame the nice executive at Debenhams, or whoever chose the playlist that repeats all day long at my recently acquired job as 'Food Services Adviser', I don't even need to invent a snazzy title for my CV, they've amped up my job-title already!

But anyway, without this repetition I would never have reached the point of actually listening to the lyrics; it's a nice enough tune and suitably boppy to accompany the serving of customers. But I have reached the point at any job where I suddenly wake up and the music is already playing in my head, while this is annoying it's nowhere near as annoying as the bagpipes that plagued my previous position:

I can't even press play to check it works for fear of the Cashmere-Cave memories.

Back to Bruno though

It's a beautiful night,

Okay, nothing wrong here, scene setting is just fine if a little cliched.

We're looking for something dumb to do,

Yup, normal premise for a song written by rich people with nothing to do...

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you.

What?! Where did that come from? I can imagine the normal response to this would be:

'You think you want to marry me, sorry wanna marry me? Why don't you try asking me properly first and then I might think about it. You might also want to revise the think, it doesn't really inspire confidence.'

Can you imagine Mr Mars asking the girl's father for her hand in marriage?

'Hey old man, how's it hangin'? You know, I'm gonna get with your girl, you know, the deal with the rings and that banging organ tune? Only if that's cool with you of course?'

'You got any ginger ale I can have with this?'

I think that young gentleman would be tossed out onto his rear-parts rather sharpish.


In the second verse the plot thickens, it appears this young chap doesn't know whether it is the look in her eyes or the dancing juice that makes him want to do the dumb thing and marry her. We all know that vision is a good trait to look for in a mate but should it be the only thing you consider alongside dancing juice? Which, if it's not alcohol, I'm desperately trying to think up a funny alternative that it could be. Google tells me it's ginger ale and rum but I prefer to imagine this...

'Dancing juice? I thought you said...'

Continuing with the theme of providing good reasons to marry Mr Mars suggests

Who cares if we're trashed? Got a pocket full of cash we can blow oh, oh, oh,

Sound reasoning right there, but just in case the ladies aren't convinced he just tells them

Don't say no, no, no, no-no,
Just say yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah.

'Okay Mr Mars, whatever you say! I'm sure you're serious about this, the repetition told me so!'

And the icing on the cake? Amongst further repetitions of the stupidity of this whole marriage idea (the chorus), Bruno reveals his true motives:

If you wake up and wanna break up that's cool.
No I won't blame you;
It was fun girl.

Well that's just fine. It was all an (barely) elaborate ruse to get this lady in the sack.

Kinda feel sorry for anyone who decides to start their life together on this premise...

I'm told a lot of his music is as cleverly written and insightful as this. I hope for my few readers that I do not come into contact with it because there could be a whole lot more blog posts like this.

Musical Musing

I'm continually fascinated with my attitude towards music, so much of it has been associated with an ideology like Punk, or developed a rivalry; the rock kids vs. the rap kids. Now that I'm older and ultimately wiser (allegedly) I have given all this up and I simply listen to whatever I like, whatever the genre or influence. Like this!

The Cat Empire - Brighter Than Gold

This next song shot me back to being eleven or twelve, constantly trading seats in front of the computer as my friend and I tried to collect all the letters to make up the word SKATE, this was my first introduction to Tony Hawks Pro Skater.

Millencolin - No Cigar

And this has opened a can of worms; most of my teenage music comes down to one man. Tony Hawks, not the comedian who hitchhiked round Ireland with a fridge,  but the first man to land a 900 on a skateboard, The Birdman.

Not happy with his already legendary status he gets other amazing athletes to join in and invent the next most awesome olympic sport, skateboarding doubles...

I suppose in reality it was the gaming franchise that dominated the minds of young teenagers the world over and for that we have to thank Neversoft, a company that made thousands of teenagers cheer with enjoyment as we saw the new way in which their logo grotesquely imprinted itself in our memories forever.

And now thanks to YouTube you can watch them all here. They are even immortalised in the world of Call of Duty and teenager's call-signs all over the world.

Next song on the YouTube-Memory-Lane-Spectacular?

Goldfinger - Superman

The list goes on and on, ollieing from one game to the next, my musical development crafted by a computer game. I love how simple it is to invoke those memories, the frustration as you tried to complete challenges, and the sheer joy as you succeeded. The contrast between these joypad-hurling moments and the moments where tears of relief stream down your face is genuinely one of the reasons I play video-games... perhaps that isn't too healthy, it did after all lead on to this...

CKY - 96 Quite Bitter Beings

The world of CKY videos, Jackass, and eventually the brutal Welsh equivalent Dirty Sanchez (really, really NSFW). I suppose it was the true rise of fame-for-idiocy, but then You've Been Framed was always far too tame anyway.

Perhaps it is a little worrying that I was so clearly influenced by product placement. but then again it's also nice to be able to relive those memories via the simplicity of YouTube suggestions, and now I'm lost in a haze of nostalgia... OK, playlist's finished, I think I'm done now.

Dr. Deadline

It is deadline time, the libraries are full, energy drink shares are through the roof and as you walk around campus, students red-eyed and emanating the essence-du-café stumble and bump into one another like ants blinded by the weight of words after words scrolling across their eyes. The outline of a blank page haunts them at night as the pitter patter of rain becomes fingers on keys, the pace racing as four o'clock approaches. 

'How many words you got?'

'Lets go for a drink once this is all handed in. God I need a drink.'

'Did you hear that so-and-so hasn't even started (thank god I'm not the worst off).' 

It is the night before the assignment is due, 11.55pm, some students will have been finished for days, others may be completing their final check and others will be just starting. Often I will be sitting staring blankly at the computer, my mind questioning how many coffees and energy drinks I've had, wondering whether one more wouldn't hurt before deciding tea is better; jittery fingers don't type as well. 

I am past the blank page syndrome, usually by writing nonsense for half an hour that I will edit out later, it got rid off that terrifying and consuming blankness though. I am past the point of feeling good about the essay knowing that being on the right track is what matters. I've lost and regained my focus, for a moment I doubted I was answering the question but I'm over that; I can always adapt the question to the essay later. I am at the stage of not really caring that much but feigning confidence and wishing I had given myself more time - 'Never again, next time I will give myself loads of extra time and I'll write a perfect essay. I could be getting a first if I put as much effort into this as I put into anything else I do.' 

My thoughts echo across campus, picking up strength as others quote the age-old mantra 'Next time… plan ahead… focus… switch off the internet… how do I spell…' building and building, gaining strength, swirling above the city, the country.

The maelstrom of thoughts chase each other up into the air, reaching the brown brogues of a small figure, the corduroys lead on to a hunched and cardigan adorned torso, a grey beard changes shape as the face of the Professor cracks into a smile, 

'Till next year my pretty's...'

Party Pictures

I've discovered that I should not take pictures at parties, or at least not after four cans of cheap Polish party-fodder, two bottles of something else beer-like and apple Sourz, and maybe a long-vodka. I don't remember.

Either way, last saturday was no exception and I've discovered that my pictures fall into three categories.

1. The Blur

While it can be intriguing trying to figure out what is there, there is no real enjoyment in perusing these, or documentary value in their portrayal of the night...

It was a Christmas Party. In March. I knew that already. What are those odd colours near the bottom? Is that an ear? I know it was a silly night but how bad was it at this early time?

Although to be honest, using 35mm film still makes most blurry shots look pretty good, which is why I have some serious issues deciding whether to keep them or not. I feel like they hold on to some character of the night out, at least on film they do and if I delete them my inner hoarder might start crying.



2. The Multi-Shot

I bought my Panasonic Lumix DMC-TZ7 for a few reasons. It's better than a point-and-shoot but not as complex or perhaps daunting (to a complete photo newbie at least) as an SLR, it also helped that I had been using my friends TZ6 (or something) for the previous six months travelling, it was fantastically easy and you got good results. Not to mention the wide-angle lens and the 'Starry Sky' setting that allowed you to take long-exposure images for up to a minute!

Drinking looks so much cooler!

Devil Horns are still cool right?

Before you think this is just an advert for Panasonic there is a point to this rambling camera-love

I loved the possibility of shooting multiple shots in fairly rapid succession and 1.8 frames per second won me over. 

Let me set the scene a little:

I wake up. Bedfellows of empty take-out boxes match my goatee of processed cheese. Stumbling, my still-drunk legs carry me to sustenance and as the bacon fat effervesces off the hot grill I slide the SD card into my laptop. Click the icon.

WHAM!

I'm smacked in the face with the full force of a night that makes those Matrix fellows look trigger-sad. Although much like every evil henchman ever made by ACME Industries, I never hit anything.

To say I take a lot of pointless photos under the influence is an understatement. Capturing the perfect moment of everyone doing the Macarena. Okay I know that in itself is an oxymoron but nonetheless that is what I was doing on Saturday. And now I have endless photos that look like this:

Whoa! This madness is so exciting I must take a hundred photos!

Seriously, I would show you more but they are honestly all the same and I think it might be considered abuse if I were to show you a gif...

What I intended to do now was take the piss out of the pointlessness of my photo-taking. Unfortunately I have failed miserably because I found this hilarious, and it actually kinda captures the madness. Oh well, lets return to my original thought-train...

I also know that I have an immense amount of unsorted photos in a similar vein that I promised to go through later, and never have. As you can imagine, this is very annoying for someone who likes to have their folders and photos in order, organised by location and date. Go on, relish in my discomfort.

Yet worry for my insomnia as I search out all of the other instances of said photos and turn them into hilariously personal gifs. Please, make sure I leave the house this week.

3. The 'Artistic'

These images often stem from my natural curiosity in taking pictures from weird angles. I didn't know I enjoyed photography until I saw the photos that came out really well, of course there was always the excitement of getting films developed but this was different because I'd seen the picture I was looking for and finding it prettily reconfigured on the gorgeous pixels of some 90's spec computer just made me excited and desperate to take more. Unfortunately this continued when I started drinking.

But back to the weird angles, when your drunk you think they look amazing, the most beautifully artistic collection of shapes, shadows, straight and curved lines, all coming together to form a stylistic comment on nights out, friendship and spontaneity.

In reality it's just rubbish.
Like this...

'See? You're all reflected and reflective and stuff!'

But then sometimes you get lucky. My first SLR cost only £20, was a Nikon F60, and got me called a hipster, but boy did have I had fun with it.

I grabbed it ecstatically as we left the comfort of a borrowed apartment and went in search for the fireworks. The New Year Fireworks. In the mountains. You can see why I was ecstatic. I took a photo or two, and then the shutter jammed. I was a little disappointed because then I had no way of taking further awesome photos, I just kept winding and snapping without response.

The wait was horrendous, I had several films from my Christmas travels but I was too busy to get them developed. And when they came out I wholly expected to find so many terrible ones. And I did, that's part of the reason why I'm writing this right now. But, I did discover some gems, like this one... 

A completely accidental multiple exposure that did indeed capture all the excitement and entertainment of a great night and great friends.

Oh, and make that four different types of photo I end up with.

4. The ones where you weren't behind the viewfinder.

I claim no responsibility for many, many pictures of pandas on my camera. But I will try to make it funny given the opportunity...

I swear it was only out of my hands for a short while. I guess she gets the closing note. She's coming to eat you...