Back To The Grind

Monday morning and I'm back at my desk after a week in the motherland. Damn.

Yesterday was evidently my honeymoon period of being back. The weather was lovely in that very British clear blue sky with a crisp cold to the air way, I was pleased to see K, who popped round to see me and, though I missed C, I felt abundant about my two "home" countries. Which was nice.

I've reached a new mindset that helps me understand my thoughts and feelings about Sri Lanka. I can't tell you about it because it might offend you, but it's a mental framework that is enabling me to look at Sri Lanka, at how life goes on and people behave there (here), in a way that I accept things without getting wound up and pissed off by them.

Food is a funny old thing isn't it? Overall I'd take Lankan food over Brit food any day, yet there are definitely a few things I miss when in the Paradise Isle; a decent burger being one of them.

I still haven't tried one of Burger's King's highly rated offerings but other than that I think I've tried most of the well known ones. Last week it was the turn of the Sugar Bistro's famous Sugar Burger, a name I've always treated with suspicion for it just sounds wrong to me, the type 2 diabetic.

I was warned that I'd probably be disappointed by it when ordering,but felt that I needed to try it for myself. And, while the rest of the party tucked into some delicious looking and even more delicious tasting steak sandwiches, I tried my utmost to enjoy my Sugar Burger yet failed with huge success.

The problem? It was the burger or the beef bit itself. It was mushy and somewhat paste like and had none of the hearty meatiness that you find in burger patties here in the decent places. This might be to do with the local palate, as it's a phenomenon I've encountered frequently, I just don't know. The fillings were okay, no more, no less and the cheese was awful.

Enough complaining though. I had rice and curry that I can only dream of when I'm here in London, I gorged myself with string hoppers and prawn curry as if, well as if I was only going to have a week there before flying back home, I had one lunch that consisted of two Lamprais followed by chocolate biscuit pudding ( as a diabetic I have to hold back sometimes!) and I generally ate a delectable feast of food that I'll pine for as I steam into my Tesco's sandwich at lunchtime.

Bollocks.

 

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You And Your "Little" World

Hello.

I wonder what you might think of this; I often ask my girls what's happening in their life. And, I usually say

"So, what's going on in K's world?" Or "What's happening in A life?"

To me, those specific wordings sound good. I feel as if they give attention to the people concerned and usually generate an interesting (to me) response. Except of course when the TV is on or when one of them has a laptop, iPad or mobile phone to hand. Which is hardly ever, as you'll know if you've ever spent any time with teenage girls. If you're American then at this point I strongly suggest you look up the definition of the word "sarcasm".

The other day someone, someone who I think genuinely cares for me and whatnot, asked me an almost identical question yet it angered and annoyed me. I say "angered and annoyed" and I mean that in an internal sense. I didn't erupt or show any outward anger, I just inwardly rolled my eyes and sighed a little bit, then replied rather nicely. Nor did I dwell on it. Much.

The actual question?

"So RD, what's been happening in your little world then?"

It was the one word; little, that pissed me off. I found it patronising and belittling. As if "my" world is a small one that has no relevance to the real world. Which of course is true, but one doesn't just go out there and say  it. I wouldn't meet a fellow and ask him what was going on in his insignificant life, even if I don't care much for what has happened to him lately.

And yet I realise it's not very different to the way I'll ask my girls the same thing.

What do you think? Would it affect you too?

Oooh David Blacker, You're So Cute!

Yes, a bit of an attention grabbing headline I know. But still, we're here now.

I have a question for you; why is it that women, or females as they're often referred to, continually congratulate each other on their beauty and looks (mostly on Facebook admittedly) whereas as us blokes never do?

Time after time I see photos of ladies and time after time I see lists of comments and likes, some of which will be by men but most will be by women.

It's rarer than a tax concession on importing racing cars to a recently war torn country to find a picture bunged up by a bloke of himself that's adorned with comments by other chaps saying things like:

"You're so beautiful boy", "You've got beauty both inside and outside", or simply "3>" or however the hell you do those heart things.

I'm seriously thinking of spending a day writing these soppy messages on all my male friends' walls, just to see what the reaction is.

Why do women do it?

Please tell me.

New Year, New Post

Now that I've joined the ranks of infrequent bloggers, those chaps who crop up on your feed every now and again and you ignore anyhow, I struggle for inspiration in things to jot about.

It's definitely nothing to do with a lack of things going on in my, or your, world. There's plenty going on all over the show. Only a few hours ago we had this helicopter crash in central London and all the associated shenanigans. And of course if I'm ever really in need of a post I can always bung something out that either slags off Muslims or Islamaphobia. Either one works.

But no, it's just that I'm out of practice in the art of looking at life as it goes by and trying to pass on my observations to you, the reader. I'll keep trying, in this old fashioned blogging format that kids these days have only heard about from their grandparents.

I spent the best part of last week holed up in the recording studio of a rather famous band whilst The Breaks recorded an album of sorts too. We had a huge amount of fun and I learned loads of things about my own playing as well as things I need to work on.

The end result will be (touch wood) a mini album of eleven songs, all of which I know I'm going to be very proud of.

This was the third time I've been in a studio to record and for as many bands also. Was that a really crap sentence? I'm unsure. Anyhow, each time it's been a fairly major event for me and the people with me. I don't know if you've ever done it but I'll explain in case you're one of those that haven't.

You see first of all you bond in a way that famous touring bands get to do every day, or at least every day they're on tour. The thing is that most of us musician types aren't famous. We work, have families, jobs, mortgages and day to day shit to deal with and we fit in our passion for music around it all. So when we gig it's something that slots in between all the other stuff.

Going away for a few days with bandmates gives a rare chance to feel what it must be like to go on tour for an extended period when you're a proper music star. Except of course we don't have groupies and our choice of drugs was based around daily vitamin requirements, managing diabetes and dealing with morning headaches caused not so much by copious volumes of alcohol but by a couple of glasses of lager followed by one of wine.

And even after a few days, even though I'd have classed us all as pretty close friends anyhow beforehand, we became closer, more tight both personally and musically.

But really, it was fucking brilliant. Getting to record, to analyse my own playing in a studio environment, is so different to listening to and analysing a live recording. Gigs are moments in time that pass and are then left behind in history. Sure there might be a recording on a camera phone or a video of a gig but they're just images of moments gone by.

There's something different about recording songs in a studio. You want to do the absolute best you can for the sake of posterity. Whatever is on the final cut is there for eternity, or maybe even longer, and it's got to be good. That's just my opinion and others might differ, but I want my recordings to be good. Not perfect though. I'm not sure if I believe in perfection in music. One of the beauties in music is in the imperfections, the  gaps, the ever so slight shifts in tempo, the things that fall in the cracks rather than always on the beat.

And you also want to do your best for your bandmates. It's not spoken about as the sense of team overrides that of the individual by a large margin, but I'd be lying if I said there was no sense of competition. All of us wanted to get our individual parts done as competently and quickly as possible and no one wanted to be the class dunce, the one who just couldn't keep up to scratch. On this occasion we didn't have a class dunce. Next time it might be different.

I got back home on Sunday night and I'll confess that I felt a bit sad. All the others went back to their families; the wives and kids, to catch up on what they'd been doing, how their rugby and football, guitar lessons and things had gone. I attempted to make contact with my girls, who were both wholly uninterested in what I'd been doing anyhow, then rang my parents who bizarrely enough seemed the same. C was in Singapore and eight hours ahead so there was no chance of any interaction there. Long distance relationships would be so much easier if it wasn't for the long distance bit.

But that is one of the things I've observed about post divorce life for a mid forties bloke in London in a long distance relationship; everyone here has their nest, their castle and it's as if they're attached to it by a long piece of elastic. In Sri Lanka it's different and I know not for why. Perhaps the weather is a big factor. It's so much easier to go out and socialise if it's warm and sunny and you don't have to consider which overcoat to wear and how many layers you'll need underneath it all.

Still I booked a flight to the motherland the other day and can't wait to see so many people.

Isn't it funny. I spend the whole of my life living in London and all of a sudden I realise I have more friends in Sri Lanka, a country I've never actually lived in, than I do here.

Weird shit. Or vut to doo as you would say.

An Old Fashioned Blog Post

The Old Boy Cerno sent me a Tweet yesterday, well a message thing on Twitter at least. It linked to the first page of a blog and the page had some words that made me think:

"I blog because it’s as old fashioned and romantic as writing letters and using a typewriter and I hope I can chronicle my writing journey and tell you all about it, if you choose to listen"

Well for fuck's sake I ask you. Or tell you. Is that how the kids see blogging these days? As old fashioned and romantic?

I still like the idea of churning out a post every now and again, I still want to regale you with boring stories about everyday happenings in my life, tales of A and K, of C and moi. 

So I should. 

But coming back after an absence is harder than I'd imagined. It's cold, it's wintery and it's Christmassy here in London. We've got decorations up in every high street, Father Christmas' in every other shop and THAT Coca Cola ad on TV every few minutes. It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas and I like it. 

And The Auf is back blogging too, though he's made up some new name. It sounds a bit weird. Someone called "Riza". Ha ha, how mad is that?

Yours sincerely

RD

Tat Three Pending

When I had the first one done everyone said that I'd have more, that once you've got the bug there's no going back. Oh how correct they were!

For the third time I have that feeling of excitement brewing, the one of slight ball itchiness combined with a need for time to hurry up and the feeling that I want to smile at the most inopportune moments. You youngsters probably feel similar when you fall in love for the first time or discover the joys of masturbating. For some the two happen together, consider yourself lucky if you're one of those people.

Yes it's almost tat three time. Tomorrow afternoon you'll be able to find me sat in my new favourite tattoo parlour's chair having it done. I've pondered, deliberated and cogitated for a good couple of years on this one and had more conversations with my tat guru than he's got tattoos and finally, the day is nearly here.

I've gone for a picture of a Kandyan drummer. That was never really in question, but the task of coming up with something I actually like was the hard thing. I've found a picture, told my bloke that I want the feet to look "less cartoony" and for there to be no moustache and we're ready to roll.

I'm hoping that the guy will do a good job, he's a well known fellow and one of these "arty" chaps rather than a bloke who operates a needle thing and basically just stencils stuff on skin.

If you're a regular here you'll hopefully understand that a picture of a Sri Lankan drummer on my arm represents two of the things that are fundamental parts of my make up. It's the first one that I'm having that's really personal. The other two are just random designs; designs that I like a lot, but ones without any true meaning to me.

Another thing, I was googling Kandyan drummer tattoos and came across this. I wonder if anyone can shed any light on it. It looks as if someone has taken my post, bunged it into a translator, then back into English and used it as their own post. What do you think?

I might take a picture and put it up here once it's done, it all depends on how pleased I am with it.

Oh Hi, It's Me Again..

If I start this post with a lament on how it's been a long time since I wrote something, well, it's only going to sound like all my recent ones. So I won't. I'll just say sorry, for life has been busy, in a strange mental yet quiet sort of way.

What's going down?

Well the girls, A and K that is, are doing their thing, strutting their stuff like teenage girls do. A is now doing her gap year, working and trying to save money to pay for travels around the world, including Sri Lanka, in the early part of next year.

I'm not joking when I tell you that I honestly feel tremors in my stomach whenever I think of her travelling around the world, even with friends. If you love somebody set them free is all well and good, but I think it should have been "If you love somebody set them free and shit yourself a little bit". Still, what to do? She's going, she's eighteen and, in my humble one, one of the most important aspects of parenting is giving your advice, then watching kids go off and make mistakes and helping them when they do. Not that travelling is a mistake by any means.

And K is now at college, doing double maths and English. She's heavily into her music, which pleases me no end. Yesterday she sent me a text to ask about Audioslave and Soundgarden and Chris Cornell. I was pleased to reply and give her a brief rundown of their history. Of course, you already know it, so I won't patronise you by explaining it again. She's also a huge fan of the esteemed Mr Grohl. I like that.

C, that other woman in my life, is off working in Singapore. If you're one of those who sees her sporadically in Colombo and have been wondering where she is, well that's the answer. And it's also why I haven't hit the motherland for a few months. I'm at that pining stage now, missing the good things and putting the bad ones right to the back of my mind.

I've been doing a hell of a lot of drumming lately. Since we last spoke I've found that I'm playing for a Tina Turner tribute band. Well, I think I'm depping for the regular drummer but gigs have been quite frequent. It's a blast, playing good old fashioned R + B from the days when R + B was R + B not this bump 'n' grind  R +B that the kids know.

The punk band also continues, not without its frustrations. We'll see what happens to it, but I'm enjoying trying to play punk with authenticity. It's actually a challenge as all these punk bands from the late seventies and early eighties were just learning to play when they emerged. So, not that I'm any kind of expert player now, I have to consciously play as if I've still learning the ropes. I kid you not when I say it's a bit of a feat.

On top of that is the fact that many of these bands and musicians are currently out playing and on tour but are now some of the best musicians around. If you hear them playing a song now that was originally a hit in the heady days of punk it's usually with a level of finesse and musicianship that I can only dream of. I have to find a comfortable middle ground between the two extremes. Oh, and play really fast.

And The Breaks, the covers band, continues marching onwards and sideways. We plan to go into a studio sometime in January to bung down a demo of some sorts. We've decided on ten tracks, though I feel a little doubtful if we'll get that many down in two to three days. It will be total blast, of that I'm sure. I've been into studios with previous bands and each time we've ended up much closer as people and tighter as a band from the experience.

On the lesson side of things I've been studying Jazz. It's hard, as if the last fifteen years of playing have been spent learning one language and, all of a sudden, I'm told "now we're going to learn how to make cheese".

But I'm listening to it at every opportunity, trying to take it in by osmosis and feel the stuff, to think two and four instead of one and three, and to suddenly forget about the bass drum as the be all and end all of things. And you know how I like my right foot normally. My parents are huge Jazz fans and always have been so it feels as if I'm coming full circle to the music I grew up listening to. I only wish I'd paid a bit more attention to it as a kid.

Here in Londinium we've got proper Christmas weather, without the snow that is. I saw someone on Facebook say that she'd seen the Coca Cola ad on TV over the weekend, the true spirit of Christmas "Holidays are coming" one. I haven't witnessed it this year yet, but everyone knows it's the first sign of the season proper. It seems like a lifetime ago when we were all watching the Olympics and wearing T shirts, shorts and flip flops Hawaiinas.

My Mum is having kittens about the logistics and arrangements for Christmas, the shops are getting crowded and the autumnal colours and moving from the trees to the pavements.

It's all good.

Ah yes, I know what I was going to tell you; I tried making a chicken curry the other day, but used chorizo in the starting line up, frying little bits of it with the garlic, onions, rampe and curry leaves. Someone suggested it to me and it adds a interestingly reddish paprikaish twist to things. I'm sure it's not for everyone but I reckon I'll do it again.

Just saying.

I hope your week is a good one and happy birthday to my good friend David Blacker for yesterday.