A phrase that would be wonderfully confusing to any 1930s photographer

Having had some unexpected downtime, I used it to visit the Tates – Modern yesterday,  Britain today. Of course the big exhibitions have either just closed or are about to open, but my favourite of the three I did see was the Fahrelnissa Zeid at Tate Modern. Not a stellar name (she only warrants a six-page card leaflet for a start), the best of her pictures are colourful abstracts (with an unexpected lurch into big-eyed portraits at the end of her life). The other two I’m probably just not the target audience for – Whiteread’s stuff seems to be mainly about the story that can be told about them. As objects they’re quite banal, indeed the display outside in the “free” section (Untitled (One Hundred Spaces)) seems like a range of prototypes for bollards. But she’s very well-liked by people who like that sort of thing, so it’s obviously me. Similarly, the Queer British Art contained a lot of perfectly-all-right-but-that’s-about-it stuff. One of the pleasures of Tate Britain for me is that there are often things appearing that are unexpected and delightful – today it was the Ray Harryhausen and STAN FIRM INNA INGLAN: BLACK DIASPORA IN LONDON, 1960s-70s. But disappointingly nothing in the Queer Britain, although I did like a reference to Cecil Beaton’s “use of soft focus”. I think he was just, at that time, not very good at focusing. We take focusing rather for granted these days, as our phones do it for us. A phrase that would be wonderfully confusing to any 1930s photographer, I’d have thought.

and an awareness of DaDaism and the Russian Revolution

Up, breakfast, more coffee.

Get a move on, shower and walk into Walker.

Get to Walker about five minutes after I ought to have done. There’s another package waiting for me – I’ve lost a bit of weight, so I’ve had to replace a lot of my clothes. Now might be a good time to put a brake on it, and sell off a few things that are now a bit baggy. Do diverse artworkings.

At lunchtime, after my soup, take a walk around the block.

Afternoon is doing 3D stuff with hares.

Wander home with my boxed mic stand over my shoulder and my package. I had thought I might leave them for tomorrow, but then I’ll have dry cleaning as well, which would make it even more complicated.

Drop off the packages and walk up to Shaftesbury Avenue and go to the theatre to watch Travesties, which I missed at the much-closer-to-home Menier Chocolate Factory.

Travesties is wonderful, but is a pyrotechnic display of ideas and words. I know what’s going on because I read it so many times (even though there are a couple of stage directions I must have misunderstood, that took me by surprise), but it’s really for people with a working knowledge of The Importance of Being Earnest, and an awareness of DaDaism and the Russian Revolution. I laughed a lot, though.

Walk home and get sandwich and beer for late dinner.

Eat sandwich and pears, drink beer and watch YouTube.

Not a shopping expedition I’ve overthought.

Up, breakfast, shower, dress.

Into Walker, and do the normal retouching stuff.

At lunchtime walk to the local Tesco and get a punnet of strawberries and a cauliflower. Not a shopping expedition I’ve overthought.

In the afternoon eat the strawberries and the cauliflower (I’m not sure that I’ve eaten an entire cauliflower before. While it’s not an experience I’d warn against, I’m not sure it’s one I’d recommend particularly either), and carry on with the work.

Call at the shop on the way home. I go via the park, which is a long cut rather than a short cut, on account of building work. That said, it is more scenic and the weather is lovely so I don’t mind. In the end all I get at the shop is meatballs.

Dinner is the meatballs and rice, followed by delicious Japanese cakes that H was given by one of her friends.

Watch the first episode of the new season of Better Call Saul, which is going for the superlatives again.

In order to keep the TV momentum going, watch the documentary about 60s psychedelic music and one of those Pink Floyd retrospectives.

perhaps Week 9 is where I’m supposed to be

Up, coffee, a bit of guitar playing, more coffee, shower, dress, into work, dropping off a couple of suits to be dry-cleaned on the way. I think I’ve dressed in a faintly absurd summer sort of way, with which I have no problem, but which might have a comedy aspect to it.

Spend some time transferring text from Illustrator to Indesign.

Home again, dither, then go out for a run. Somehow I manage to skip from Week 6 of Couch to 5k to Week 9, but manage to complete it anyway, so perhaps Week 9 is where I’m supposed to be. Home, stretch, shower, then get dressed and go to buy some milk.

Listen to some new CA tracks that Ben and Gerard have been working on. No idea what I’ll do for them. Perhaps I’ll find out at the weekend.

Dither, write a very long post on Metafilter, soon (late) to bed.

all I managed was a shoe rack

Spent the day not doing very much, which was all very nice, but…

I did make a shoe rack, will that do? I’ve been planning how to do it for a long time. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, although there was more sawing than I’d have liked. Although sawing is the only, or at least best, way of making bits of wood into smaller bits of wood.

Anyway, of the several things I really should have done, all I managed was a shoe rack.

Sundays, eh?

I’ve got to dodge a number of people

Up, breakfast. Today’s breakfast includes black pudding, so H can find out what it’s like. Generally approved of.

Spend a lot of the day dithering and hanging around. I must have done some stuff, but I can’t remember what. H goes out to the pictures.

Go out for a run. It’s got warm. It would be impossible to get down the South Bank on a Saturday afternoon in this weather, so I elect to go round by Tate Britain. Even so, I’ve got to dodge a number of people.

Stretch, shower and get dressed. And H comes home.

Do the ironing while watching the first three episodes of Inside Number 9, which I’ve unaccountably not seen until now. Very good television to iron to, I must say.

Somehow it becomes 8:30 without my really noticing it happening.

Go and get fish and chips, with detours to buy stuff for tomorrow’s breakfast. I send the message to put the kettle on from the watch. I might think of that as progress. It seems like progress.

Watch most of Transport 2 and all of Dredd. A nice bit of Saturday night hyperviolence.

That felt a bit futury.

Up, breakfast. Vegetate.

Morning fiddling about with chromatic chords, which are still alluring, plentiful and bewildering.

Shower and dress.

Go out in the sunshine to deliver the final, signed document to complete my father’s estate. Which ought to be it, but if the rest of the process is anything to go by will take a while.

Walk along to Somerset House to see the Restless Spirit Projector that Viv’s been building, and for which I’ve done sounds and music. It’s very fine, and quite unusual. Partly because it doesn’t appear to involve any technology at all – just hand mirrors. Go for a coffee with the fellow who coded it, and find myself doing conversational ineptitude again – for some reason the conversation becomes about how I don’t play games rather than about how he makes them, which would be much more interesting. I really need to stop doing that.

Find myself going to the Apple Store, where I inspect and buy an Apple Watch. I’ve been receiving Apple Store gift vouchers for some time, and I felt the urge to cash them in. The sales assistant is very, professionally, nice and I end up with the thing, but feel again that I’m doing human interaction wrong.

Walk home in the sunshine via the shop where I buy tomorrow’s breakfast and tonight’s dinner.

Get home and unpack my new purchase. I spend some time setting it up and fiddling with at, finding out what it can do, as it’s not as if I’d put any prior thought into the purchase. Some apps I thought I’d be using a lot are a bit underwhelming, but it looks like it will be very useful.

This makes dinner late, but it’s very nice, but not of the excess levels I’ve come to expect on a Friday. Have to rush out to get an avocado, which isn’t a sentence I ever thought I’d construct, and get to try out using the watch to pay for it. That felt a bit futury.

Seems to be Depeche Mode night on BBC4. Can’t help but feel that my generation is moving into the position that Fleetwood Mac’s natural audience occupied a few years ago.

it’s quite possible I’m wrong, as I have a talent for it

Up, sit, coffee, some guitar playing, some more coffee, shower, dress.

Into Walker.

The day is spent largely working on hares with occasional fish interjections. When I arrive, my cupboard is full of cake for a birthday celebration later on. Today is a fast day, so I’m not allowed anything, which includes cake. When I go home I take a couple of leftover pieces in a tupperware container.

Walk home via the local chemist, which has been long closed. I could have guessed that, but I suppose the extra walking did me some good or other.

When I get home and unpack the packages, it seems that the shoes are not only genuine Loake shoes,  but are vintage. Or at least old. Which I assume is an advantage, though it’s quite possible I’m wrong, as I have a talent for it. The suit is also nice. The trousers claim to be 36″ at the waist and yet they fit. This is freakish.

Walk up to Waterloo Station to get some mouthwash to hopefully quell the abused gums.

Go out for a run – down the South Bank, so there’s a certain amount of dodging people, though not as much as there will be in a month or so. I’ll have to go off in search of backstreets to jog down. That or get up really early.

Stretch and shower.

Do the ironing while watching Avengers: Age of Ultron. Yes, Ironing Man, ha, ha. I first saw the film in the morning, and went to see Fury Road in the afternoon, and it’s always suffered rather by the comparison, at least in my memory. It’s fine, though, and I have a lot of ironing to do, so it occupies the time wonderfully.

H gets home, and I quiz her about the shoes.

in imitation of free will or individuality

Up, sit, breakfast.

Broadly manage to avoid playing the guitar (perhaps a couple of chords), but don’t seem to get out of the flat any earlier. Nice day though.

Morning – mostly fish.

After eating lunch I take another turn round the block, except today I decide to go in the opposite direction, just because I can, in imitation of free will or individuality, perhaps.

Afternoon shift – more hares. It’s the kind of job that messes up my head after a few hours. I don’t really know why, but it does. So I’m quite bewildered by six o’clock.

Borrow a bag to get my stuff home.

Go up to the shop to get dinner – one of the butcher’s convenient premade foods. And salad and stuff. I didn’t notice we had tomatos when I checked the fridge, so I get more. H said this is what she did yesterday, so now we have lots of tomatos. Which is probably a good thing. I like tomatos.

Dinner, then eat too many imperial mints. Which is more than four. So far too many imperial mints. The one bit of imperialism I can get behind wholeheartedly.

Create the final track for Restless Spirits – I’d mis- or unread the script and need to spin something out of bits of other tracks. Also remix the triumphant end music, so there’s more expression to the sounds.

Do the invoices for last month, which will hopefully get paid this month. Long story.

Make a spooky loop, just because. Upload it anyway.

the whole head-around-ness

Up, breakfast.

Do some practise. I think I’m getting the hang of chromatic chord progressions, but I’m not sure. It feels like I understand it, but can’t quite get my head around it. Sounds nice though, so perhaps the whole head-around-ness isn’t completely necessary.

Shower, dress, into Walker to do stuff to hares.

Go for a walk around the block – or at least over Lambeth Bridge, past Tate Britain and back again over Vauxhall Bridge – after lunch.

Afternoon very tough – feeling very sleepy, which hasn’t happened for a while, and also a bit grumpy. Trying not to show this, as it appears to be just something that’s happening in my head, but still. Want to sleep.

Walk home, stopping by a supermarket to get milk. Head bubbling somewhat.

Dinner by H – cous cous and vegetables.

Go to the computer and finish the final pair for Restless Spirit Projector. Upload same.

Record my voices for Restless Spirit Projector after some prompting from Viv. Interesting how quickly it goes – I’ve obviously sharpened up my speed editings skills. But I’m not getting to bed early, that’s for sure.