Mark’s Diary: June 1st, 1867

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I found this note the other day, tucked away in an old box with some souvenirs. The corners of the page were greatly yellowed and it looked like someone had burnt the edges so I knew it must be really old.

” The journal of Mark’s exploration of the Inca Amazon jungle with his trusty companion and pack-lugger Dan…

June 1st 1867

The heat is oppresive (sic) and indecent sweat coats my private parts, however the trip proceeds well with Dan’s pungent stench reminding me of the barbarous working class I plan to annihilate on my return to England…”

Click on the picture to read the full journal entry.

Read more of Mark’s obsession with his private parts and the barbarism of the working class tomorrow!

The happiest day of your life

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What the hell is going on at this wedding? Why are they all so angry? I went into this wedding shop in Dalston and the assistant told me it’s a diorama of  the best-man’s speech. Three chairs scrape harshly, three men have risen to their feet in shock as the drunk best man threatens to reveal the whereabouts of the shallow grave they just dug.

Flatiron #7

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Bit dull-looking this one, but according to information on this flickr page, The Boundary Street Estate in Bethnal Green was the world’s first council estate, built 1897.

Its eyes are like those of a herbivorous dinosaur startled from sleep.

ADVENTURE!

Willard Price’s ADVENTURE series involves the daring escapades and exotic locations visited by brothers Hal and Roger Hunt in their quest to find animals and bring them back alive to sell to zoos. There’s a wonderfully effusive and affectionate writeup on them here at the blog of a Mr A. P. Salmond. TIGER ADVENTURE was the first non-picture book I ever read, in Balham library at about the age of 3. And when the teachers at my primary school agreed to release me from the stultifying bonds of the Green Reader series and go read any book I wanted from the school library I felt overwhelmed by choice and reached for an old friend, CANNIBAL ADVENTURE. There were just over a dozen books in the series, and over the years I read them all, and re-read them, and re-read them. I also remember the language making its way into my own stories… great manly expressions like “he blacked out” or “The men pulled lustily but they could not budge the snake”.

When I was around 13, I realised that I’d read WHALE ADVENTURE so many times that I could quote whole passages and visualise them on the page. And I realised something about my brain – I remember things visually. I remember text by its layout, by the shapes of the paragraphs, the islands of text in the page-coloured sea, even the little rivers of white running down past the words.

The first image (above) is of the cover of TIGER ADVENTURE as I first saw it in 1977 at Balham Library, and below left is the cover of the one I found today in Oxfam in Horsham and bought for 99p!

Cranky like Sizzles

I love computers. I’ve had one since I was 7 – my parents bought a ZX81, with no sound, no colour, and a 16k RAM pack that crashed the computer if you wobbled it slightly, killing that program you’d spent hours typing in. I fondly remember the smell of cooking circuits and the gentle hum of the power pack. And the dreadful sinking feeling when I dropped the power pack and the computer wouldn’t power-up. And the giddy feeling when my next-door neighbour, who was also a radio ham, helped me build a new power-pack from a circuit diagram.

So I’ve bought a new computer with a hefty motherboard and a fast new (loud) graphics card and it’s all shiny and I’m digging using Windows 7 because I’ve never had a computer that had enough welly to actually run the current version of Windows. But the closer something becomes to being user-friendly, the more small things stick out.

For example, Flash CS5 treats its panels as separate windows, and there are problems switching between them. I’m very used to using the Flash shortcuts (V for the arrow tool, B for brush, Z for zoom, L for lassoo and so on) but here they stop working unless you click on the main stage window first, meaning that if you’ve got the zoom tool selected but want to change to the brush tool, you press B and click on the main stage and it zooms away from where you want to be. It’s only a minor thing but over thousands and thousands of clicks and taps it becomes really frustrating!

Other annoyances include text selection in some programs. I used to know how it worked – you select a bunch of text, but then decide you want to simply move the cursor to the beginning of the text. So you press the left cursor key, but instead it moves you back one space from the end of the selection – I can’t see any context in which this would be useful, but it’s now entirely ubiquitous, and it really burns me up.

Maybe I’m getting old and cranky, like Sizzles, but the areas you have to click on to perform certain tasks seems to be really small. From scrolling all the way up to the top right of the screen to click on a square the size of a small bluebottle, to selecting the two-pixel width edge of a window to resize it, to moving the mouse cursor in small increments and notice when it changes to the double-headed arrow so you can drag the divider between panes, it’s all getting to be a bit of a pain in the arse.

I try to get away from the computer as much as I can – I’ve set up a sit/stand desk in an alcove which is basically deep shelves and a tall stool. I stood up at the desk for a few months but in the end my back felt like it was going to give out so I bought a cheap stool from Argos, which is doing a pretty good job, except it’s too tall to put my feet on anything except the curved strut about a foot off the ground, which is slightly too high for comfort – when I rest my bare feet on it they go numb after a few minutes. When I have my Wacom tablet out for animation there isn’t enough room to pull the keyboard close enough, so after an hour of animating, holding my left hand in the classic “Flash animator’s claw” I get a seized-up shoulder and neck. I obviously have terrible ergonomic shortcomings but can’t figure out what else to do about it!

The OpenOffice Fork

I’ve recently splashed out on a new computer to replace my aged, groaning PC which was one of the machines we used at Pesky for The Amazing Adrenalini Brothers. The new one has a fast (although loud) graphics card and more memory to play with, which should help me get acquainted with After Effects and 3D packages (I’m starting in Blender, mainly because it’s free, but also because I used it a while ago and always enjoyed piddling around with it). Having been faced with the task of re-installing all my software (Flash, Photoshop, Final Draft, antivirus, Steam, new drivers, Notepad++, Audacity and Lame, Blender, Firefox, Acrobat Reader, CCleaner, 7Zip, Skype, Deluge, KeePass) I found I needed an Office suite, mainly for word processing, but also the occasional expenses/income spreadsheet. I always used to use OpenOffice, but Googling around led me this time to LibreOffice, which is a spinoff of that product. There’s an interesting story behind the difference between the two suites – told here. If you haven’t got time to read it, the short version (from Wikipedia) is that “On 28 September 2010, several members of the OpenOffice.org project formed a new group called “The Document Foundation”. The Document Foundation created LibreOffice from their former project in response to Oracle Corporation’s purchasing of Sun Microsystems over concerns that Oracle would either discontinue OpenOffice.org, or place restrictions on it as an open source project, as it had on Sun’s OpenSolaris.” Which basically means OpenOffice is dead, and the developers are all working on LibreOffice.

Pretty

Sometimes I like to look at Google Streetview just to see the sky.

Polite graffiti notice

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Usually when I see a sheet of paper tacked to a wall I expect to see the heading “Polite Notice” and for the note to actually be a fully-justified (in the printing sense) passive-aggressive diktat. But this note, on the wall near my girlfriend’s house in London, is the very opposite – cheerful, admiring, heartwarming. I miss the horse too. It was life-sized and gentle, with an expression that told of some horsey inner wisdom. Another one appeared very briefly, up the road a-ways… this one had gold wings. I think it’s gone now.

I just realised I used the word “diktat” in that paragraph purely because I saw it on the back cover of my copy of “Porpoises Rescue Dick Van Dyke”, which arrived fresh from Lulu’s printers today.

I highly recommend it! You can buy it here.

Furthermore, having seen the video of lovely old Dick Van Dyke telling the story of his rescue to Craig Ferguson, I now can’t help but picture Jon and George from numbers 41 + 13 as porpoises!

Flatiron #6

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The sign says Frying Pan Alley, but Google Maps says Petticoat Lane Market/Sandy’s Row. I prefer Frying Pan Alley.

A trip to the Co-op


I just walked up to the village Co-op to get some beer and a packet of crisps. Not the healthiest diet for a man of my age, but I figured I’ve done a good day’s work and intend to be working for a while longer and I deserve a goddamn beer (Co-op own-brand Czech lager) and some goddamn crisps (Smiths squares, grab bag, but still only about 40g). I have a thing about queues in shops – especially Holland and Barrett – long queues seem to form right after I’ve entered a shop and I suddenly find several people materialise there before me in a previously empty place. There’s obviously a far-reaching covert organisation ordering its minions to mildly inconvenience me.

I brought my own bag to hold the stuff but have always found it difficult to judge the orchestration of the transaction and bagging operation. I usually end up trying to do them simultaneously and find myself unsuccessfully juggling shopping and wallet, worse if combinations of notes and coins is involved, and even worse if the weather is cold and I’m wearing gloves, coat and hat. I’d given the man a tenner and fished in my pocket for a twenty p to make the change easier for him to handle, but I was holding a glove and the bottles were difficult to manoeuvre into the bag and clashed together, threatening to topple over. The man at the till, perhaps wisely, didn’t help me – I think the combination of own-bag, lager and crisps sparked off some nexus of shopkeeperly prudence, some muscle-memory pounded into him over and over again by his steely but wise mentor.

On the way back I passed the bus stop, where I saw a woman who looked like the sloughed-off husk of a pupating Brian Dennehy.