I read a lot of biographies. My favourites are ones like Nick Drake – The Biography by Patrick Humphries. It’s full of interesting stuff - who knew that the tall skinny (and remarkably handsome) Drake was born in Burma? But it also has what may be a dying art in biography – a sense of mystery. He died so early, in such obscurity, no one kept records.
Are we the last generation of lost records? By records I mean official documentation. I’m pretty sure from 1990 or so there accurate records of every place I’ve ever lived. I’m sure if someone wanted, they could easily find all the places I’ve travelled, and when. There’s a computer somewhere that has every journey I’ve ever taken. Except maybe one trip from Korea to Taiwan where I was issued with a paper ticket. Maybe, that’s the one black mark.
And I like the black marks. I like not being able to join the dots sometimes. I like to think there are things that people never know about eachother.
This isn’t an anti big brother rant. This isn’t me walking down your street with a sandwich board saying the government is watching you. It’s just a belief that a life can be more than what can be assumed from documents, even interviews.
Have you tried googling yourself? Then, there are now myspaces and facebooks. Facebook, you can even tag photos with people’s names. There are many photos of me I’ve never seen. Then there’s Youtube! How long before you’re there, in the background of someone’s camera phone.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like a bit of mystery. It doesn’t feel like I can do much these days without people knowing about it. Which is fine. But sometimes, when you are somewhere, and you realise, no one knows where you are, or what you are doing, can be a beautiful moment.
I have to believe that there will always be mysteries in the world. That we cannot be captured simply by the tracks we leave behind. And that there are things in the world that cannot be looked up in Wikipedia.
They put out another Nick Drake collection this year (in the same month there was ‘new’ releases by Elliott Smith and Jeff Buckley). I didn’t get it, but I have plenty of Drake boots. He did a lot of covers and just jamming stuff. I have to believe that maybe there is a beautiful song he wrote and played that maybe is never recorded, that I’ll never hear. I have his three albums, and about 10 other collections, boots, demos and stuff. And after all that, I want to be able to say that it was just a part of his bag of tunes.
No one knows if Nick Drake’s death was an accident or if it was deliberate. I don’t want to know. I don’t ever want to know everything. I want to keep guessing.
Danny
London
Showing posts with label Rambles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rambles. Show all posts
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
I’m gonna wait til the midnight hour
I’m not very good at sleeping. I’m not sure when exactly I was supposed to learn this skill, but I never did.
It’s not like I need more reasons to love Tom Waits, but he once said something to the effect of sleeping at night is another way society makes you conform. Certainly, magical things only occur after midnight.
Firstly, the world is your own. I walked home from a night out last week, past the world famous Royal Albert Hall, around 2am. And I stopped in front of it and realised, I am the only person in the world right now, standing here. No one is walking past, or about to. Maybe if I walked into Hyde Park, I could have had the whole thing to myself.
Okay, so when I can’t sleep I don’t necessarily go wandering in parks. But you feel more alive when everyone around you is asleep. If there is someone of something watching over us, you have their attention. If there’s songs to be plucked out of the air, the air is clear for you to grab them.
My mind is at it’s clearest after midnight. I know this. I often manage to get a lot done, if I’m writing, or even just cleaning or sorting something out on the computer. Even Ikea furniture construction. And Tom Waits is right. When you’re on a roll, why does the world say you have to sleep?
The argument against, of course, is if I got good healthy early nights, my brain would actually work in the mornings. But there is a part of me that thinks if I go to sleep before 12, I’m wasting precious time. And once you hit 12, 3am’s a piss in.
The idea of sleeping pills has been considered and considered too scary. I get addicted to things enough thank you. The fact I eat crap every day may also be making something in me not balanced. Is there a sleep vitamin? Pot smoking and wanking have also been suggested. I will not admit publicly to either but in any event I’m still not sleeping.
So back to what happens when you’re awake past the witching hour. Listening to music is always like listening on headphones, whether headphones are used or not. You’re more attuned to the details of it. It’s far easier to lose yourself in the world of a late night movie (or more likely an episode of the Sopranos). And when it’s raining…geez you should have been there to sit and just watch the rain from my old place, with some light music on. Something like Still Crazy After All These Years.
The real magic happens when you’re not alone. When you have someone to call. Londoners were especially great, and now I guess it’s true for Australians. Perth was always good to me. But sometimes you find someone online, and you’re both up, and you say, gimme a call…
Sometimes it’s easier in this day and age to just stay online. But when you’re crapping on at two in the morning… you know the scene when William calls Lester Bangs in Almost Famous? And Lester says, the greatest currency we have is the moments we share when we are uncool. You’re not at the pub, you’re not out, not worried about people overhearing. Some good stuff happens. I used to talk til the sun came up. I was working part time when this was happening.
Work really kicks this part of one’s life in the ass. I need a planet with longer days, and I don’t see terraforming happening in my lifetime. It has occurred to me that sleeping better may be something I need to work on, but I’m not sure how. Hopefully old age will just get me and I just sleep all the time like, well, my Dad. There’s always hope.
Okay, I should be sleep. Society, it seems, has got it’s claws in me again. It’s been nice talking to you. I’m going to try and dream my dreams.
Danny
London
(apologies and thank yous to Kim and Laura)
It’s not like I need more reasons to love Tom Waits, but he once said something to the effect of sleeping at night is another way society makes you conform. Certainly, magical things only occur after midnight.
Firstly, the world is your own. I walked home from a night out last week, past the world famous Royal Albert Hall, around 2am. And I stopped in front of it and realised, I am the only person in the world right now, standing here. No one is walking past, or about to. Maybe if I walked into Hyde Park, I could have had the whole thing to myself.
Okay, so when I can’t sleep I don’t necessarily go wandering in parks. But you feel more alive when everyone around you is asleep. If there is someone of something watching over us, you have their attention. If there’s songs to be plucked out of the air, the air is clear for you to grab them.
My mind is at it’s clearest after midnight. I know this. I often manage to get a lot done, if I’m writing, or even just cleaning or sorting something out on the computer. Even Ikea furniture construction. And Tom Waits is right. When you’re on a roll, why does the world say you have to sleep?
The argument against, of course, is if I got good healthy early nights, my brain would actually work in the mornings. But there is a part of me that thinks if I go to sleep before 12, I’m wasting precious time. And once you hit 12, 3am’s a piss in.
The idea of sleeping pills has been considered and considered too scary. I get addicted to things enough thank you. The fact I eat crap every day may also be making something in me not balanced. Is there a sleep vitamin? Pot smoking and wanking have also been suggested. I will not admit publicly to either but in any event I’m still not sleeping.
So back to what happens when you’re awake past the witching hour. Listening to music is always like listening on headphones, whether headphones are used or not. You’re more attuned to the details of it. It’s far easier to lose yourself in the world of a late night movie (or more likely an episode of the Sopranos). And when it’s raining…geez you should have been there to sit and just watch the rain from my old place, with some light music on. Something like Still Crazy After All These Years.
The real magic happens when you’re not alone. When you have someone to call. Londoners were especially great, and now I guess it’s true for Australians. Perth was always good to me. But sometimes you find someone online, and you’re both up, and you say, gimme a call…
Sometimes it’s easier in this day and age to just stay online. But when you’re crapping on at two in the morning… you know the scene when William calls Lester Bangs in Almost Famous? And Lester says, the greatest currency we have is the moments we share when we are uncool. You’re not at the pub, you’re not out, not worried about people overhearing. Some good stuff happens. I used to talk til the sun came up. I was working part time when this was happening.
Work really kicks this part of one’s life in the ass. I need a planet with longer days, and I don’t see terraforming happening in my lifetime. It has occurred to me that sleeping better may be something I need to work on, but I’m not sure how. Hopefully old age will just get me and I just sleep all the time like, well, my Dad. There’s always hope.
Okay, I should be sleep. Society, it seems, has got it’s claws in me again. It’s been nice talking to you. I’m going to try and dream my dreams.
Danny
London
(apologies and thank yous to Kim and Laura)
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