The Quiet's Worrying.

Last week was my fiftieth blog post.  Don't all stand up in ovation at once, it's taken me almost six years to rack those up, often after long lulls.  But very few lulz, I'm sure some of you are sniggering to yourselves, buncha shitty bastards.

Being internet quiet bothers me a little, because it makes me think I'm not doing anything.  Actually it usually coincides with a time when I'm not doing very much creatively.  That's an odd thing to notice, I know, but it fills me with the worries.  Oh so many worries.

What if I stop writing blog posts and my creativity drops off?  Ah, fuck!  The torture that is!  It means I'll have to keep the motor running on this, and most of the time I find it hard to think of something to write about.  So you end up looking at this self-reflective babble.  Can't be fun for you.  Poor unfortunate internet wretches – but you're all still bastards.

Don't worry, it's not all going to be close-up pictures of my belly button fluff right at the source, though that's now tempting^*.

What I'm going to do this week, and probably other weeks in the future is just magpie shit.  Plonk stuff here as the week goes on until it resembles some kind of post and publish it once on my Wednesday schedule.  A nice theory, and we'll see how it works out.

I'll mention things like that utter nonsense from the Brit Awards^**.  David Bowie, upon winning something or other, sent forth the Spidery Coke Monster – AKA Kate Moss – to deliver an acceptance speech.  I don't know most of what was said, as I have no interest, but it seems it was signed off with "Scotland, stay with us."

What the thundering fuck?  Stay with who?  Ex-pat English musicians?  I mean, seriously, man, a bit of clarity won't go amiss here.  But what does it matter to him whether Scotland remains part of the UK?  I suppose we can be thankful he said please.  And just so you know I think Sean Connery's a bit of a cunt by shouting for independence, but showing no inclination to living in the country.  Can you tell what side of the argument I'm on?  I might actually do a blog about it in the future.

Ideas!  I knew there was a good reason to do this!

My wife and I went to the Jack Vettriano retrospective at Kelvingrove the other week.  Interesting exhibit, as it starkly shows up the artist's weaknesses.  The man has serious trouble with faces, like, off-puttingly so.  It was packed, though, to the point where it was hard to get close enough to see some of the paintings.  That was a week before the exhibition ended.  We went to Kelvingrove again this Saturday to buy a poster from the shop and holy fucking shit!  I'm glad we'd already gone to the exhibition.  Some of the poor buggers in the queue were told they might have to wait up to an hour to get in.  An hour!  You can't help wonder how much money's been made on this^†.

It's also been pointed out that it's over a year since the Playstation 4 was announced.  That went fast.  Mind you last year went fast leading up to the release of the console.  I may have some words on this too.  Brainstorming, that's the fucking ticket.

And more fucking swearing.  Can't have too much.

^* No, no, no!  Don't want to become a blog that comes up in one of those kinds of searches.

^** That I, funnily enough, didn't watch.  Fucking commercial music wank-material.

^† Turns out a fucking frightening amount, most likely.


Will