Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Getting into Bad Company.

DICK, wandering among the tents at the fair, met several of his schoolfellows, and was persuaded to go with them inside the largest tent.  He went, but had no idea what was going on, until he saw that it was full of men, drinking and smoking ; then he remembered how his mother had cautioned him not to get into bad company, and he would have gone back at once, had not Lawrence caught him by the arm and told him to come on.  Poor Dick is in an uncomfortable position ; he wants to do what is right, and walk out of the tent, but at the same time he sees Tom laughing at his indecision, and he does not like the idea of being made fun of.  Ah, Dick ! be warned in time.  Never mind the laughter, it does you no harm ; but show how wise you are by not getting into bad company.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Ben and the Squire.

BEN had long wished he could enter the Squire's service, but did not know how to do so, as he was with Farmer Chapman, and could not leave him till his time was up.  But one day he saw the Squire comeing, and holding the gate open for him, he looked so anxious to speak to him that the Squire stopped and questioned Ben, and liking his looks and manner, he promised to remember his wish to take service at the Hall, and wrote down Ben's name and address, telling him that when he had left the farm he could come and see if any place was then vacant, either in the stable or garden.  And Ben, delighted with this offer, made his best bow, and promised to do as the Squire said, and went back to his work happily.  Politeness always helps a boy on in life.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Mother's Comforters.

THESE three are alone in the world now; the father who had supported them is dead, and they must soon be leaving their old home.  But the boys had talked it over, and resolved to do what they could to support their mother ; so when she sat by the fire after tea, filled with melancholy thoughts, the lads, coming close to her, did their best to comfort her in her trouble, and telling her their plans, made her for awhile forget her grief.  She was touched with their care for her, and called them her comforters ; and the boys, who dearly loved their mother, were glad to be a comfort, and hid their own sorrow for the father just gone from them, that they might the more look after the parent who was left to their charge, and be a comfort to her in her declining years.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Old Potato Man.

MATTHEW ASHBY was to be seen early and late,all through the autumn and winter days, with his can of hot potatoes for sale, and had grown old in his trade.  He was civil and sober, and had his regular customers, chiefly among the boys, who are always to be found near the great railway stations.  But old Matthew had overtaxed his strength, when one cold morning he set out, feeling weak, for his accustomed place.  When he got there he could only sit down on a chair, too feeble to stand. Soon two kind-hearted boys came to see what was the matter; and they got him a cup of hot coffee, which did him a little good ; and then finding he lived not far off, they took him home and left him under the care of his daughter, who promised to send for a doctor if her father got no better.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - On the Ice.

IT was a very hard frost, the coldest weather known for years people said, and the old folks were glad to remain by the fire; but all the young people were so rejoiced at the sliding and skating that they spent all day on the ice, only coming in for a hurried lunch and going out again till dark.  One afternoon the sun shone so brightly that positively grandmamma and Aunt Fanny were induced to come and see the skaters, and Aunt Fanny was pushed over the pond by her nephews, who had got ready a chair with rollers on it, on purpose to give the ladies a ride; grandmamma would not venture in the chair, although assured it was very delightful to go smoothly and quickly from one end of the pond to the other, and that there was no danger of falling through the thick ice.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Tom's First Situation.

TOM was ten years old when he went to his first place at Mr. Cope's, the grocer, and though small of his age, he did better than the bigger boy who had preceded him in the situation, and gave satisfaction to his master.  The rector of the parish, who knew Tom's family, and took an interest in them all, called to inquire after Tom, when he had been six weeks at the grocer's, and Mr. Cope spoke so well of him, that the rector was pleased to hear it, and told Tom that if he went on as he had begun, he would one day be proprietor of a shop himself; and he bade him remember all his parents had taught him, say his prayers night and morning, be steady and honest, always do his duty to his employer, and make good use of all his spare moments.   I think he will follow this advice.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - "What Shall I Be?"

MRS. ETSER, the housekeeper, in whose room Master Claude is sitting, is rather startled by the abrupt question, "What shall I be when I grow up?"  She suggests that there is plenty of time to consider that, as he is now only seven years old; but he is bent on pursuing the subject.  Shall he be a soldier, or a sailor, or a doctor? No ;  he does not think he would like to be either.  Well, a clergyman? Yes; perhaps that might do, but he is not sure.  An artist then? Ah! that might do better, for he is so fond of picture, he is quite sure he could paint. What does Mrs. Etser say to it all? Why, she advises him to attend to his lessons and be a good boy, and do all he is told, and leave off thinking too much of what he will do when grown up, or it will make him idle now.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - "No; Go Away."

FRANK and Edward want Christina to come and play with them; but all the answer she makes is, "No; go away," while she turns from them into her corner, seemingly determined not to come out of it for them or anyone else.  Now Christina is a foolish little girl, for the two big boys would make capital playfellows, and she really would enjoy a game of play if she could only make up that small mind of hers and not be so shy and keep on saying in reply to all they urge, " No; go away."  And supposing they do go away, will Christina be satisfied?  No; I think if she sees them at play she will then be very sorry indeed that she did not let two such kind-looking lads persuade her out of her corner and her shyness into joining them in their pleasant play, whatever it is.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - At the Cottage Door.

SO merry are the little voices that mother comes to the cottage door to see what is going on, and there finds Annie seated on the doorstep with Robin and Claude, who, like the good brothers they are, have given up a game of cricket to amuse their little sister.  And the mother is glad to see it, for she has taught her boys to be considerate to others, and not to think of themselves; and so they are always ready in their unselfishness to look after Annie and keep the child happily amused. Thereby they help their good mother also, for at present Annie is much too young to be left quite alone ; but if her brothers are there to take care of the little girl, Mrs. Jobbins can get through her work a great deal quicker, because she is not called off every now and then to see what Annie is doing.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Stormy Weather.

HOW the waves dash up against the cliffs, beating them as if they longed to break away the rocky wall.  But God "hast set a  bound, that they may not pass over," and we need not fear, even when storms rage around us ; whether on land or sea, we are safe if we trust in God. When we lie awake at night listening to the howling wind, we should think of the sailors and the many travellers who are at that moment on the sea, and pray for their safe arrival at their journey's end. A sailor's life is often a hard one, and he suffers from cold and bad weather, besides many other things; but what should we do without his labours? for so many articles of food and clothing have to cross the seas.  Look over the things on the breakfast-table, and count up how many have been brought to our country by sailors.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - "Don't Go, John."

JOHN'S cousin, who is groom to the Squire, has come to see him, and is urging him to accompany him for an hour to the public-house on the Green. But his wife, who is afraid if her husband goes there he will stop too long and drink what is not good for him, is very anxious that he should stay with her, and she says earnestly, "Don't go, John."  He is very undecided what to do, but I hope it will end in his staying at home; and if Mrs. John can persuade the cousin to remain with them and take a cup of tea--and she intends trying to make him stay--it will be all the better for all three of them; and they can chat ever so much cosier in the chimney-corner than in the public-house. How many fine young men have been for ever ruined through the intoxicating cup ! Touch it not.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Grandmother's Letter.

IT is rather an effort for grandmother to write a letter, for her eyesight is not what it was ; but she must answer the letter which little Maud sent her this morning. So, putting on her spectacles, she sits down to her desk to tell her dear little grandchild how pelase she is to have the first letter Maud has ever written ; and she says that when the summer comes Maud is to come by and stay with her, and make hay in the meadow, which grandmother knows is a great pleasure to little folks.  Then knowing Maud's fondness for animals there follows a list of the cats and dogs, rabbits and cows, all mentioned by name; and the letter finishes with grandmother's fond love and kisses to her little pet. Maud is very kind to animals.  She is a member of the "Band of Mercy," for teaching children to be kind to animals.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Poor Pussy.

"POOR pussy," said little Harry, running after the cat, who, roused from sleeping by the fireside, would not come to his call.  " I wish pussy would not run away, aunt," said his little sister Joan ; " we would love her so ; we would not hurt her the least bit."  But pussy thought that, however kind this little girl and boy were to her, she might get so hugged and squeezed, all for love, that she had better run away and hide, which she did.  Always be gentle with pussy, and don't pull her fur or her whiskers, for it hurts her as much as pulling your hair hurts you; and when you are holding pussy, and loving her as little Harry and Joan wanted to do, remember that hugging her tightly is very uncomfortable, and that if she does then give a scratch with her claw, it is because she wants to get away.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Nosegay.

A NOSEGAY of sweet flowers from Anna's own little garden is a welcome gift to the cottage child, who has seen nothing so bright and gay in the strip of ground round her home, which, though called a garden, is not as well cared for as it might be.  Anna enjoys sharing her pleasures with others, and is happy when her flowers bring a smile to the pale cheek of some one who is ill, or when, as in this case, she can tell their names to an intelligent listener and show her how beautifully the leaves are tinted and shaped, and talk to her of the good God who made the flowers and cares for them and us.  The little girl will look at her flowers with greater pleasure than before, when she thinks of what Anna said as they sat together examining the nosegay.  Let us thank God for the beautiful flowers. 

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Boys' Class.

THERE were so many big rough boys in the class that no one would undertake it, and when Miss Andrews offered to try what could be done, the other teachers shook their heads and said it was useless. But Miss Andrews undauntedly took her place; and when the boys found she was not to be moved by laughter or remarks, but read steadily on, they grew quieter, until when she paused after reading the story of Joseph and his brethren, to ask the lads if they understood it, she found the two roughest boys sitting at her feet too absorbed to move. This was an encouragement, and when she promised to come again next Sunday, and the lads said, "Thank ye, ma'am, we'll come," she felt quite cheered up, and determined to do all in her power to interest and improve the boys of her class.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Donkey-Cart.

" WOULD I be you, to walk about all day long beside a stupid donkey?" said James Smith to Alfred Comber, who was leading his donkey up the road from the village. "Would I be you? Why, look at me ; I've all my time to myself to do what I like in, and needn't slave as you do."  " It's all very well to talk, James," replied Alfred ; "but my donkey is not stupid ; she knows me as well as possible and I'm quite fond of her ; and as to having time myself, why I'd rather not have it : I like work, and I'm glad to have plenty to do.  And it strikes me, James," he continued, "That if you had work you would be happier for it, and enjoy your leisure hours, as I do, all the more for being busy." James couldn't reply to this, so he said " good-bye," and left Alfred to go his way alone.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - "Can I Have A Ride ?"

" I HAVE seen it done, and I am sure if I could only once drop down comfortably on that creature's back I could stick on." These were the reflections of Pompey, the black monkey, who, having made good his escape from the house, had, after many adventures, found himself on a roof overlooking the pigstye, where Mrs. Pig and a thriving young family were enjoying existence.  "Shall I do it? a ride would be delightful; well, here goes; I'll take a leap--one, two--;" but he didn't say three, for happily Mrs. Pig, who was looking round as if disturbed by something, at this very moment, up came the man with the pigs' wash, and Pompey, fearing detection, fled up the roof and in at the stable window as if he had been shot, very well aware that he had no business to be where he was. 

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Quite Unconscious.

PUSSY, wrapt up in her little family, whom, of course, she thinks superior to all the other kittens in the world, is quite unconscious of the fact that Master Jacko, the monkey, is in the act of stretching out his long arm to touch one of her darlings.  Will not there be a fuss when she finds it out!  He will scream and then she will spit and huff at him, and the kittens will curl up together in a great fright;and there will be such a to-do that the Major will come out from his study all in a hurry, and Master Jacko having by this time climbed the banisters, will look on enjoying the great discomfiture of poor pussy, and the wonderment of his master, the Major, who finds no cause whatever for the strange disturbance,and the evident alarm of the cat and her three poor little babies. 

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Jeanette's Tricks.

WHEN the captain came home from India he brought a pet monkey, who,  though very well-behaved  in general,  dearly loved tricks and pastimes.  She was on the look out one morning for something in the shape of amusement when Annie, the housemaid, came running out with a message.  " Now's my chance, " thought she, and off went in an instant the shawl from Annie's head.  " Here, Jeanette, give me that!" cried the captain; but Jeanette was up a tree, and knowing no one could reach her there, she sat chattering and looking so comical in the shawl which she put on, that even Annie, when her fright was over, could not help laughing ; and so for this time Miss Jeanette escaped the punishment which her master threatened her with as he shook his stick.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - That Mischievous Monkey.

THE old general was sitting all alone on the deck, and from thinking of his home and the children he was going back to, he gradually got to dreaming of them, and although he never acknowledged to sleeping in the daytime, he really was now enjoying a comfortable nap.  The consequence was that he thus never saw peeping down from above an inquisitive face with a pair of black eyes, neither did he see a cautious descent of the rope, but he felt, and that so as to wake him with a start, a tug at his cap, which fell off, and with it came what he thought no one knew he wore, his wig.  He was lame with the gout, couldn't rise from his chair, and so he had to watch the monkey's gambols with his property, which was half destroyed before the laughing sailors could restore it to him.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Telling His Fault.

EDMUND looks ashamed of himself and his father astonished.  Some fault has been committed during the day, but we won't inquire what it is, and only praise Edmund for honestly telling it out in this way before he says "good-night." Edmund has always been told to speak the truth, and if he has done wrong to confess it ; and he does as he is told, we see.  And while his father will no doubt punish him if he deserves it, he will not do it as heavily as if the fault had been hidden. That makes matters much worse always, and the doer of the fault a very miserable creature, because he has the fear of being found out as well as the knowledge of the fault itself weighing on his mind.  Remember this next time you do wrong, and go and tell your fault.  If we confess our faults we shall have forgiveness.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Look at the Clock.

" LATE again, Bob,"  said his master reprovingly, and at the same time pointing to the clock, as his young apprentice came slowly sauntering into the workshop ; " how many times have I told you that to succeed in your business you must be punctual, and an early riser, and make a diligent use of your time and opportunities of learning?  Once give way to idle habits, and they will grow upon you till everything becomes a trouble, and you will be a useless member of society, instead of by industry and perseverance doing good in the world." Bob made no reply to this long speech; but as he worked diligently the rest of the day, his master hoped it had made an impression, and that he would not have in future to lecture him on the necessity of being industrious and punctual.

an epistle

                                                            17th of March, 1768 Anno Domini

Deareft Sifter,

I write to you from the confines of the Monaftery. Spring approacheth with all deliberate speed and the Dogwoods are putting forth their beft efforts at greenery. Geefe and frogs accumulate in the lands and airs round about the place, singing in their various wises and delighting the ear grown weary of the groans of Furnaces.

Dumped once more I have been. This is a few weeks ago now. Simmering unpleafantness was the refult, as it always is. The Breaking-up is not an amufing experience. Even with plenty of fair warning it ground againft my Mind for a week or so, of greater duration than even Damian 'Jr. Gong' Marley's sonic endeavour yclept 'Welcome to Jamrocke'.

One day a week or two past I drove the Tractor (my firft word, Mother always ufed to say) out to tranfport piles of Dirt from one side of the building to the other. Later, having parked the Machine and walking along the Route taken earlier, I efpied a Frog of not inconfiderable size, approximately half a hand's-breadth, crouched on the Pavement not far from where I had driven. I infpected the little Fellow and soon afcertained that his Head had been partially crufhed, no doubt by the Wheel of that very Tractor I had been driving. Some innards protruded slightly out of the left side of his head. He yet lived, though rather impaffively. I hunkered down to give him my full Regard. He regarded me in return. A wafhing flood of Sadness came over me. "I am sorry," I said. The Frog, a moft pitiable figure, made slow, half-completed moves towards me. The great Pity and Sorrow I felt for him intenfified. He seemed not to know what was happening or who I was; perhaps he fancied me a Friend, a large Frog-helper, or even a juicy Worm, not knowing that I was the very Architect of his present Trouble. Now and again he put a Foreleg forward, making efforts towards I know not what end. "I am sorry, I am so sorry," I murmured. This poor Creature's life had been irreverfibly, without warning or good Reafon, damaged by me. "I am so sorry." That ancient air of Fleetwood Mack's, "Laye Me Downe in the Tall Graffe and Let Me Do My Stuffe," entered my Imagination, and, after tempting the green Gentleman with a makefhift Poole of water, which was not to his liking, I heeded the tuneful Injunction and gently bedded him in a patch of thick spring Graff nearby.

A few Hours later I returned. The Amphibian was no more for this World. His body was stretched forth, as though he had attempted one final Frog's-Leap, one laft flowering forth of that Force that had carried him from Egg, to Tadpole, to doughty Fly-hunter and Serenader of Lady-frogs. The Grief I felt for him, and for all of us who dwell for a time in this World that seems often to have no Senfe or Plan, where Justice is a word of mere human Fabrication, and in which bitter Suffering is the lot of all of us sooner or later, intenfified unbearably. I refolved to conftruct for my departed Fellow-worldling a Coffin, a suitable Refting-Box in which his mortal remnants might be encafed with some Dignity, Dignity with which the manner of his mortal Wounding had not been provided. 

So after the evening repaft, I repaired to the carpentry Shop and, using some scraps of frefh cedar Wood, I hammered together a rough Box. I had not inconfiderable difficulty in getting some of the Nails to enter the wood without bending awry, having to re-hammer a dozen or more, and as Nail after Nail twifted and warped against my intention and my defire, my Fruftration and Anger and great Sorrow grew to a pitch, and I struck the hammer indifcriminately on the Work-table, shouting with rage. At laft, though, I managed to complete the tiny Coffin, whereupon I lined it with some Blades of the aforementioned Tall Graffe, placed within it the limp Corpfe of the Amphibian, and bore it to the ceremonial Garden in which memorials to Children who have died untimely are placed, and in which is buried the former ancient Dogge of the Monaftery. Sobbing now, toes uncovered and chilled, speaking over and over the Words "I am sorry, I am sorry, I am so sorry," I fafhioned a small Frog-grave in the Earth and lowered the tiny Box down in to it.

This small Story I felt I should share with you, my deareft Sifter, though the reafon why I could not say. I hope that this letter finds you in good Health, so precious a poffeffion, and that the Seas of Turmoil in your Heart will know Stillnefs for some few moments. It is such moments, Sips of Eternity, that can refrefh us for the onward Journey.

                                                       Your own Brother,

                                                                        Edwin

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Return.

IT is not a grand house nor well furnished; but there are loving hearts in it, which is much better; and so thinks Peter, when he finds his wife's arms round his neck, welcoming him home after a long absence.  He has come back as poor as he went, for robbers overtook the travellers on the road and took away their goods and money, but his wife says as he is safe never mind the rest, and now he must come in ;  and there is little Milly to kiss and hug, and she is sure he must be hungry and tired after his long journey. And talking thus they go in to the farm kitchen and sit down to look at each other and hear all that has happened at home and abroad ;  and he has adventures to tell of the foreign lands he has seen and the perils of the sea, and so here we will leave them happily together.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - An Anxious Moment.

THE heart of the young man beats high. He has worked for years at his invention, and now the time has come for its being revealed to the world; but first of all he shows it to one on whom he relies for advice, and on his recommendation rests the knotty point whether or no there is novelty in it, and he is likely to succeed. The model is uncovered, the friend sits still, and with steady eye looks over the wheels and machinery ;  then, turning to the young man, he praises him for his cleverness and invention, and tells him his invention is all he could wish it to be. In the history of inventions you will find many passages like this, and read there how young men have toiled bravely to benefit mankind, and were, by God's blessing, in some instances rewarded by both rank and fortune.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Young Inventor.

IT is not inquisitiveness alone which makes this lad look so closely into the works of a clock ;  he wants to see how they are made, and will one day if he lives be an inventor. Sir Humphry Davy, who invented the miner's safety lamp, was such a lad as this boy, always inquiring into things ;  and James Ferguson another. This latter boy was so poor as to be glad to keep sheep for a Scotch farmer, but he taught himself astronomy, and made a watch before he was twenty.  If you have a turn for invention, follow it by all means, but be a sensible boy, and don't let your lessons suffer in consequence; but always do them first, and then no one will make any objection to your other pursuits, or call you idle.  It is only those who are idle and shirk their studies who are to be blamed.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - "I Love You."

MISS WILSON, the governess, was sitting all alone, and feeling sad, for she had not long left her home to go out teaching, and it was strange to her.  She wished to do her duty and teach her pupils well, but they were high-spirited, and she feared she had made no good impressions yet on either of them.  Just then a pair of little arms was thrown round her neck, and a voice said, "I love you," and kissed her many times.  It was Edmund who did this, and his kindly sympathy went to her heart and cheered her, for it seemed an earnest of better things.  Her sad thoughts vanished, and taking the little boy on her knee, she talked to him and interested herself in all he had to tell her, for he was an intelligent boy, and she wanted to show him that she appreciated his kindness to her.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - A Bad Headache.

EDWIN came back from school with so bad a headache that mamma said he must go and lie down at once, which he gladly did ;  and she drew the curtains to shut out the light, gave him a comfortable sofa and a soft cushion for his head, and by-and-by brought him a glass of cool lemonade to drink, which he did with pleasure, for he was so thirsty.  Then she bathed his head with eau de Cologne, and telling him to try and sleep, she kissed him, and went out shutting the door gently behind her ;  and telling the other boys that they must keep quiet, she sent them out to play in the meadow, bidding them stay under the shade of the great beeches until the sun set, or they would perhaps be as bad with headache as Edwin was, for it was the hottest day they had had that summer.

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Child at Prayers.

NELLIE has been taught to kneel down by her bedside night and morning and pray to God, asking Him to bless her and all near and dear to her, and to keep her from evil and dangers. To praise and thank Him for all the benefits she receives, and to ask Him to continue them, is also part of Nellie's prayer, and she asks it all for Jesus Christ's sake ; who when He was on earth set us an example of praying for all we need. A habit of prayer is proper to all men, for great are our wants and trials and temptations, and nothing brings us relief like asking God in prayer for all that is necessary for body or soul.  But we must pray from the heart, and not with the lips alone, to make our prayers acceptable to God, who will hear and answer us if we ask him aright.  He has said, "Ask, and it shall be given you."

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Kind Elder Sister.

GERTRUDE is the eldest of a family of nine children, and Bertha is the youngest. Gertrude is very fond of her baby sister, and in the picture we see how lovingly she is nursing it. 

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Title Page and Frontispiece

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - Bastard Title

had she been of the porcine persuasion she might have said

not oinking but bleeding

Pleasing Pictures and Stories - The Inception

Let's start the new year with a new series. We shall be reading together the children's book "Pleasing Pictures & Stories". Please make yourselves comfortable. Let's begin.

Every man a duck.

Time is the blood of action.

Today's gem.

"Procrastination is how I stick it to the man."

Letter to Lord Chandos

To me, then, it is as though my body consists of nought but ciphers which give me the key to everything; or as if we could enter into a new and hopeful relationship with the whole of existence if only we begin to think with the heart. As soon, however, as this strange enchantment falls from me, I find myself confused; wherein this harmony transcending me and the entire world consisted, and how it made itself known to me, I could present in sensible words as little as I could say anything precise about the inner movements of my intestines or a congestion of my blood.

Philip Larkin

Those long thin steeds
And natural downs
So near at hand,
We cannot see,
Nor that tiny
Excitement share
In the delicate stand:
We cannot be

Elsewhere than here -
And yet, just so
May others stare
On our casual scene,
And cry for pleasure
At the out-of-reach
Enchantment there
Where we have been.

Forgotten Gods

Angerona

Verethraghna

Tyche

Misoponia

Tryphe

Zalmoxis

Momus

Ssan-do

Darriah

Hubal

Ziqiqu

Soviet - Marbleyezed (1st version)

Soviet's electro classic Marbleyezed, a.k.a. Marbleyzed. The original version from C, not the remixed one from We Are Eyes. Stellar but rarely heard for some reason.

Punk

Almost twenty years ago, when I was in the navy, I came into the possession of a catalog from a company called Dr. Strange Records. The catalog advertised punk vinyl, including many rare and expensive items, but what interested me were four compilations on cassette tape of the company founder's favorite punk singles. They were much cheaper than the vinyl, and I needed something to play on my tape player - record players being unfeasible on a ship.

I sent off for them and duly received them FPO. They were fantastic. Four collections of crucial classic punk singles. They were like a crash course in punk roots. If someone wanted to know what punk was about, these tapes would be all they needed. I listened to them over and over again on the ship.

Time passed and the tapes went where the woodbine twineth, but the tunes from them stayed in my head and heart. The net came to be, and from time to time I searched around, hoping to find the cassettes again, maybe in digital. No luck. Dr Strange still exists, and still sells a lot of great vinyl, but the tapes have vanished - there's not a mention of them anywhere on the site. I wrote to the company asking for any information, even just a tracklisting, and the original owner wrote back saying they were long gone and forgotten.

So in this post I will try to reconstruct the tracklists of the tapes as best I can from memory. If you, dear reader, remember more, or have copies of the tapes, please pass on your information.

There were four tapes altogether: the first one contained only American bands, the second only U.K., while the third and fourth had Americans on side A and U.K. on side B. All bands were represented by two songs each.

My memory of the first tape is the clearest, but I am not completely certain which songs were on which tape or what order they were in.


DR STRANGE PUNK CLASSICS TAPES


Americans:

GERMS - Lexicon Devil/No God
BAGS - Survive/Babylonian Gorgon
BAD RELIGION - Bad Religion/Slaves
CH3 - Mannequin/Manzanar
CONTROLLERS - Jezebel/Another Day
AVENGERS - Car Crash/We Are The One
BAD BRAINS - Pay To Cum/???
FEAR - I Love Living in the City [single version, natch]/Now Your Dead
GANG GREEN - Sold Out/Terrorize
MIA - I Hate Hippies/Gas Crisis
MISFITS - Last Caress/Who Killed Marilyn
ADOLESCENTS - Welcome to Reality/Losing Battle
YOUTH BRIGADE - Fight to Unite/Violence
GG ALLIN - You Hate Me & I Hate You/Don't Talk to Me
AGENT ORANGE - Secret Agent Man/Shakin All Over
NECROS - Search For Fame/Police Brutality (? not sure)
TOXIC REASONS - War Hero/Somebody Help Me
WASTED YOUTH - Fuck Authority/You're a Jerk
X - Los Angeles/Adult Books
DOA - The Prisoner/Fuck You (DOA were actually Canadian)
CHEIFS - Riot Squad/No Justice
SOCIAL UNREST - Making Room for Youth/Rush Hour
RIK L. RIK - I Got Power/???
TSOL - Superficial Love/???
LOST CAUSE - Born Dead/Senior Citizen
ALLEY CATS - Nothing Means Nothing Anymore/Give Me A Little Pain
MAD PARADE - Hollywood Vampires/???
SOCIAL DISTORTION - Mainliner/Playpen
DILS - You're Not Blank/I Hate the Rich


British:

STIFF LITTLE FINGERS - Suspect Device [single version]
SHAM 69 - Borstal Breakout
COCK SPARRER - Running Riot
ABRASIVE WHEELS - Burn Em Down
BLITZ - Razors in the Night/Someone's Gonna Die
SPIZZENERGI - Where's Captain Kirk?
BUZZCOCKS - Whatever Happened To?
X-RAY SPEX - Identity/Oh Bondage Up Yours
UK SUBS - Stranglehold
VIOLATORS - Summer of 81/Government Stinks
999 - Hi-Energy Plan/Homicide
REZILLOS - Top of the Pops/(My Baby Does) Good Sculptures
PETER & THE TEST TUBE BABIES - Banned From the Pubs/Maniac
PARTISANS - Police Story
EXPLOITED - Crashed Out/Hitler's In The Charts Again
LAST RESORT - Violence In Our Minds/King of the Jungle/Working Class Kids
4-SKINS - Evil/One Law For Them
BUSINESS - Suburban Rebels/Harry May
INFA RIOT - Each Dawn I Die/Kids of the 80s
GONADS - Tuckers Ruckers Ain't No Suckers
RED ALERT - SPG
EJECTED - What Am I Gonna Do
MENACE - I'm Civilised
BLOOD - Megalomaniac
BOYS - I Don't Care

singularity

Am I the only man in the world who lives at a Chinese monastery and reads the internet all day?

yes it's me

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AujrSASLDgCh_myTQEOkNjXty6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20100213062806AA0V8pl&show=7#profile-info-FvalV4qYaa

Two of each kind.

frog toad

turtle tortoise

alligator crocodile

buffalo bison

dolphin porpoise

oyster clam

seal sea lion

lion tiger

camel dromedary

mammoth mastodon

cricket locust

Real life.

What am I actually doing? Listening to Camera Obscura and playing Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup.

Two Jewels

welcoming party

Two deer from the entrance to my house. It is glumly raining.

yes!

"You're a six-note genius."

Also, there are bouncy castles in Babylon.

silver dust

degged on slate

Fresh ghosts on the lake.

Still rubbing the dry sticks love and fear

Together in your mind. May again,

Maybe this time I'll...

Above, the tipped gold cup floods across

Blue cloth. Navy swallows stitch the west

Of the bowl of the world. Weddings come.

2010

alexander you have failed me again.

damn you boy! again and again this failure, this crawling indifference.

with his arm he swept a jug off the table. it crashed to pieces in front of the children.

he drew his broad leather belt. how many times…?

sonia and anna wept. father, please, have mercy!

at that moment was heard a distant rumbling, as of storm or battle. sonia and anna pricked up their ears. the thunder grew.

outside on the main street of the village the imperial army was marching past, the guards cavalry, resplendent in silver. spurs. vermilion tunics, navy leggings. a thousand brilliant bayonets. iron cannons drawn on oaken wheels. tassels, shakoes, epaulets. stars and suns of steel and gold. the thunderous hooves.

Dio castiga quelli, chi non conoscono l'amore.

tuol sleng teng

Relating

from Joel Anselm Dietz

http://joeldietz.com/post/324863016/relating

Inertia is delightful, I have discovered, via “new experiences” including my first real attempt at dating, in which doing what one likes replaces duty, fidelity. All values are private. This was the major point of contention, as we attempted democratic means to “resolve” differences, that I somehow thought that my values (admittedly unactualized) might be “better” and thus require dissemination. Whereas, the value of honesty, which she also professes, can be held privately — while the public square is yielded to those of the lowest common denominator.

No surprise, as there is no challenge, and I woke up this morning to join a conversation on Sex and the City, the wonderful pleasures of guilt-free hookups and libations to the images of ourselves glorified, reflecting that in some part I have joined this dance via my lethargy forever increasing, or in the redirection of energies to “things I like.”

Relationships, like other objects in the neo-capitalist dispensation, are like collectibles, shiny objects to be accumulated and then dispensed with when no longer needed. There is attachment, but no love.

There is no fall for those who do not recognize heights, or who believe in the potential of heights but not the necessity of climbing, and yet I sense my twisted limbs at the bottom of some cliff, staring upwards at some peak from which I once chanced to see a great distance, and the many hands and moans which encourage me to stay forever at the bottom.

Freedom is slavery, intone the voices, and “free love” is the answer, just as capital should be freely distributed to all who cast the proper votes for this freedom, while those of us at the top continue forever, inert.

The Ancient Path

The way the English have of treating everything incredibly seriously and at the same time as all an enormous joke is the only correct way to regard life.

dig into the sun

Fwd: for you

Two plump questing doves
Hover over the river
Of gold and your mouth
Is a chalice of gold

The nervous moon's shudders
And cherries and silence
Mean drinking the wine of
Your breath is an axiom

conflict simulation

Life is a war without enemies.

Magda by the window

Przy okniem, w szarym swiatłem,
Gołąbek diamentowy opiekuje młodek.
Serce teraz wie, co to jest zalew.

Duet brzmi. Skrzypce ciepłe
Trzymać to przywilej króla muzycznego.



Gołąbek diamentowy = diamond dove.

double meanings

hail
well

I feel...

...pretty good.

For use when you need to get some god damn work done for a change.

I must not have fun. 
Fun is the time-killer. 
Fun is for inferiors, servants and the help. 
I will ignore fun. 
I will work through it. 
And when the fun is gone only I will remain--I, and my will to win. 

Damn, I'm good.
  
--The Litany Against Fun, from DOON

I'll try to put a little something here more frequently, for the practise if nothing else.

Sunny and warm outside. Happy Bicycle Day.

The punctuation all gone to hell.

"Recently I've been appalled at the low levels of articles in learned journals and literary weeklies. The punctuation gone to hell, full of non-sequiturs, an obvious lack of background knowledge, and so on. I went to a newspaper and looked up the equivalent articles from the 1930's. A great change has taken place. Forty years ago there were two kinds of articles: very, very good and terribly bad. There seemed nothing in-between. Now everything is slapdash and mediocre. Why are so many famous persons in hallowed institutions now so mediocre?"

http://www.katinkahesselink.net/sufi/sufi-shah.html

14 July. Bastille day. Many morning dreams: "The parts are turned into
a board. The board is turned into an angel in hell."

hand tooled by the angel gabriel

Rabbits, true, do much seduction
On spring-sown meadows green and sunny,
Prompting jokes on reproduction -
But I don't find them very bunny.

each single day is a rich empire
she is sad as a sword is sad
uniform unicorn
"strive to deserve what you long for"
Ah! I am speared by your damascene logic.

Wittgenstein, in a letter to a friend

"Whenever I thought of you I couldn't help thinking of a particular incident which seemed to me very important ... you made a remark about 'national character' that shocked me by its primitiveness. I then thought: what is the use of studying philosophy if all that it does for you is to enable you to talk with some plausibility about some abstruse questions of logic, etc., & if it does not improve your thinking about the important questions of everyday life, if it does not make you more conscientious than any ... journalist in the use of the dangerous phrases such people use for their own ends. You see, I know that it's difficult to think well about 'certainty, 'probability', 'perception', etc. But it is, if possible, still more difficult to think, or try to think, really honestly about your life & other people's lives. And the trouble is that thinking about these things is not thrilling, but often downright nasty. And when it's nasty then it's most important."

cut a castle out of paper
pin a diamond to it

Norman Malcolm, on Wittgenstein

"Human kindness, human concern, was for him a far more important attribute in a person than intellectual power or cultivated taste. He related with pleasure an incident that happened to him in Wales. He had taken lodgings in the home of a preacher. The first time that Wittgenstein presented himself at this house the lady of the house had inquired of Wittgenstein whether he would like some tea, and whether he would also like this and that other thing. Her husband called to her from another room: 'Do not ask; give!' Wittgenstein was most favourably impressed by this exclamation. A characteristic remark that Wittgenstein would make when referring to someone who was notably generous or kind or honest was 'He is a human being!'--thus implying that most people fail even to be human."

Graham Greene, an excerpt from his Indochina journal in Ways of Escape

February 9, 1954, Saigon

After dinner at the Arc-en-Ciel, to the fumerie [opium den] opposite the Casino above the school. I had only five pipes, but that night was very dopey. First I had a nightmare, then I was haunted by squares--architectural squares which reminded me of Angkor, equal distances, etc., and then mathematical squares--people's income, etc., square after square after square which seemed to go on all night. At last I woke and when I slept again I had a strange complete dream such I have experienced only after opium. I was coming down the steps of a club in St. James's Street and on the steps I met the Devil who was wearing a tweed motoring coat and a deerstalker cap. He had long black Edwardian moustaches. In the street a girl, with whom I was apparently living, was waiting for me in a car. The Devil stopped me and asked whether I would like to have a year to live again or to skip a year and see what would be happening to me two years from now. I told him I had no wish to live over any year again and I would like to have a glimpse of two years ahead. Immediately the Devil vanished and I was holding in my hands a letter. I opened the letter--it was from some girl whom I knew only slightly. It was a very tender letter, and a letter of farewell. Obviously during that missing year we had reached a relationship which she was now ending. Looking down at the woman in the car I thought, "I must not show her the letter, for how absurd it would be if she were to be jealous of a girl I don't yet know." I went into my room (I was no longer in the club) and tore the letter into small pieces, but at the bottom of the envelope were some beads which must have had sentimental significance. I was unwilling to destroy these and opening a drawer put them in and locked the drawer. As I did so it suddenly occurred to me, "In two years' time I shall be doing just this, opening a drawer, putting away the beads, and finding the beads are already in the drawer." Then I woke.

Graham Greene, Ways of Escape

"Sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic fear which is inherent in the human situation.

Graham Greene, talking about his early prose style in Ways of Escape

Here are examples of my style in those days and my terrible misuse of simile and metaphor. Even the good can corrupt and perhaps I had been corrupted by much reading of the metaphysical poets. "A revolver drooped like a parched flower to the pavement." (I like to reverse this simile--"A parched flower drooped like a revolver to the pavement.") "The sound of far voices sprinkled over him like the seeds of a poppy bringing rest." And here's a piece of pomposity which I had learned from Conrad at his worst: "A clock relinquished its load of hours."

Graham Greene, The End of the Affair

So much in writing depends on the superficiality of one's days. One may be preoccupied with shopping and income tax returns and chance conversations, but the stream of the unconscious continues to flow undisturbed, solving problems, planning ahead: one sits down sterile and dispirited at the desk, and suddenly the words come through as though from the air: the situations that seemed blocked in hopeless impasse move forward: the work has been done while one slept or shopped or talked with friends.

Kingsley Amis, The Green Man

To the endemic unreality of all fiction, the author had added contributions of his own: an inability to leave even the most utilitarian sentence unadorned by some verbal frill or knob or curlicue, recalling those savage cultures whose sacred objects and buildings are decorated in every square inch; a rooted habit of proceeding by way of violent and perfunctory transitions from one slackly observed scene to the next; and an unvaried method of characterization whereby, having portrayed a person as one sort of cliche, he presently revealed him as a predictable different sort of cliche. Oh well, what had I expected? The thing was a novel.

Graham Greene, Our Man In Havana

Drawing a cheque is not nearly so simple an operation in an American bank as in an English one. American bankers believe in the personal touch; the teller conveys a sense that he happens to be there accidentally and he is overjoyed at the lucky chance of the encounter. 'Well,' he seems to express in the sunny warmth of his smile, 'who would have believed that I'd meet you here, you of all people, in a bank of all places?' After exchanging with him news of your health and of his health, and after finding common interest in the fineness of the winter weather, you shyly, apologetically, slide the cheque towards him (how tiresome and incidental all such business is), but he barely has time to glance at it when the telephone rings at his elbow. 'Why, Henry,' he exclaims in astonishment over the telephone, as though Henry too were the last person he expected to speak to on such a day, 'what's the news of you?' The news takes a long time to absorb; the teller smiles whimsically at you: business is business.

E. M. Cioran, from The Trouble with Being Born

"What other people do we always feel we could do better. Unfortunately we do not have the same feeling about what we ourselves do."

silver ejection scar

Joy Stones

The first couple seconds of Love Will Tear Us Apart resemble the first couple seconds of Jumpin Jack Flash.

Meanness regarding Omaha.

I've thought some more about this habit of making fun of Omaha and I have to admit that it is shallow and false. In truth I do not think poorly of Nebraska; rather I value greatly you homespun people of the Middle, with your cornbread wisdom and your reknowned, authentic "culture of the pie". Those of us who live in sophisticated bustling coastal metropolises, with our too many sexual partners, our overpriced narcotics, and our distressingly wide choice of entertainment options, look to you "folk" in the doughy center to in a sense keep it real for us. It's up to you to hold our national keel planted firmly in the rich black soil of the prairie, and to guide this country by the twinkling star of homemade values in her times of trouble.

This really happened.

At the beginning of a formal religious service the thought suddenly occurred to me: I've never seen a picture of Gandalf going to the toilet.

required writing

The first thought that came to mind was the time you went to unload supplies to...a middle eastern country (is that right?). When you told me about this i wondered about the faces of the men you worked with...the details.

That slight of a moment when your feelings change towards something, someone...the adjustments of perspective.


The daily routine of your work in Austria. (I have this wrong as well, don't I? the chalet you worked at...)

London in the winter, then the spring.

A can of spotted dick.

A character that flew in and is staying for a while...a snippy nose and unbearable sadness.

An account of all the rooms you've slept in.

Those boots you wear.

Ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space.

Danusiu! Danusiu!
Córeczka radosna moja!
Dokąd leciesz? Gdzie śpisz?

"Conradi himself quotes a French Catholic priest who in his nineties was asked what, if anything, he had learned about the human heart after continuous exposure to its darkest secrets. Nothing at all, the priest first replied. Then, after some reflection, he said that he had understood one thing: that there are fundamentally no grown-ups."

"Excuse me, sir! Sir..."

"...you have fascist testicles."

First post: the past.

A sister insisted I do this. I resisted for philological reasons I will explain in the future.

My firm intention is to cultivate an atmosphere of cheerful mean-spiritedness.

Indiscriminate use of italics is also on the cards.