captivated by katharine eastman
This one is slightly more catchy than usual - I'll leave it at that.
On other matters far more interesting than music - and how ludicrous of me to assume that anyone comes to Bandcamp to hear any music, I certainly don't - but yes it is official inside my tiny head, but my current favourite walk is Dibden Purlieu to New Milton - a rather zigzaggy affair that takes longer in practice than a glance at the map might etc etc etc. I plan to do it again tomorrow.
The photo was taken the last time I did the walk - it's the bit where the very narrow lane from Milford on Sea heads out towards Hirst Spit and then turns and heads to Keyhaven. This is a favourite spot for camper vans. It's free and there's no one bossy about. I haven't driven for ages and I haven't done any of that overnighty stuff for ages and ages and ages - it was great when I had no choice. But now that I own a comfy bed it all seems like playacting.
I'm not interested in anything, so there's no point me dashing from new town to new-to-me town and exploring and all that shit - I just end up buying more useless shite in charity shops - the only near-interesting buildings in any town. But if I did lose the house and have to go back to sleeping on a mattress in the back of a van then I'd like to know it's still possible. Obviously, the pictured parking area is another spot that the authorities are now thinking of controlling and charging-for and then denying and driving people back to their shite jobs to pay some rich landlord all their earnings.
I never enjoyed overnighting at scenic places or anything that'd look good in a Youtube thing. I always felt much safer and relaxed in well-to-do housing estates, where people don't know each others' business, but the scumbags haven't taken it all over yet. Honest to god, I can remember the days when you'd see gypsy caravans with real people doing the real things inside them. A race that is now protected, but only after the authorities got rid of them a few decades ago. All vanished. Earlier today I nipped off to see the new UK low-budget film Hoard. Unusually for a Brit film it's good - it's claustrophobic, it's odd, the acting is okay, the dialogue is believable. The music is great - it's by Jim Williams, and that is a common name and I might be muddling up two or ten people, but he also did the music for another of my absolute favourite films, Down Terrace.
I never really understand films properly, I don't follow plots, I come out of some grim gritty cruel film that's apparently depressed everyone else and I have to keep quiet about the fact that I thought it was a comedy. And vice-v. So I'm definitely misreading Hoard. But to me it showed a world where weirdos could still be, where it is possible to be "eccentric" or a "character" and not have some posh person with their fingers in the medical research till deciding that everyone's personality is a different specific illness that needs a new pill..
I know every single person in the western world under the age of 40. I know them all because I met one once, and then I met another one and s/he was exactly the same as the first one, and then the third one I met was the same again, and again and again forever - their phones have ironed out all the kinks. And sorry for the lazy truism - but it is so staggeringly true and yet in a few more years, when we're all dead, there'll be no one around who remembers that the world was once better, happier, and people were varied.
All right, I find camper-vanners boring and I would hate to actually live among the people in Hoard and when I'm drifting around the country or the city I can't be bothered with any people except "normal" people - I'm the only person in the UK who thinks "normal" is a good thing to be. But I hardly know any normal people. There are hardly any anywhere. Everyone is fucked, and not in a good way, and people have become really annoying and needy and helpless and whiney - and it is odd, because they (we) are all being forced to be the same, to live in the same houses in the same routines doing the same things and using the same acceptable words and pretending to think the same acceptable things and no one's actually doing it but no one can do anything else.
recorded this evening, photo near Hirst Spit last week
