Pierre Henry - I Must Protest Against That Music

'A creator does not search for immediate success.' - Pierre Henry

Eastern European Fashion Knitwear 1968

Russian, I think, but hedged my bets with that heading. Retro Eastern European knitwear made from original patterns (of course) is very on-trend this winter in London. Fashionistas are scouring second-hand bookshops for gems like this now that their ironic Xmas jumpers are useless (I said that would only last about three days). I'll soon be selling this on eBay for an extortionate amount.

Nuerotexts 5 - Appropriated Writing Magazine 1967

Found in cellophane wrapper. No info on this, despite searching. Obviously few printed and I would guess the author is unknown. Probably a student? It seems to be a work of appropriated texts in the same mode as Clark Coolidge and others who've sought to undermine/challenge the notion of authorship and 'originality' over the years.

Kenneth Goldsmith

The Ecstasy of Influence

Collage: untitled

Deconstruction Of The Countdown - William Burroughs Dramatisation

Burroughs & Gysin dramatised? To tie in with the current William Burroughs exhibition, The October Gallery is hosting this event and I'll be attending. My hopes are that there will be grotesque scenes of violent debauchery involving buggering young boys before hanging them. I'm also expecting a riot induced by multiple tape recordings played loudly as Wild Boys roller-skate through central London, looting and pillaging. I'd like to 'hear myself whimpering my head bursting and flying away like stars that fall in the sky stretched the soft magic net when I spurted my insides out'. A botched operation on a child from the nearby Great Ormond Street children's hospital in the spirit of Dr Benway would be great too. Am I expecting too much?

Pulp Fiction Collage - Kiss Me Quick

From a series of collages that reconstruct pulp fiction imagery. 

HMV: His Master's Voice Falls Silent

So, RIP HMV, but own up, when was the last time you shopped there? I can't remember my last visit, it was that long ago, and by then I'd be joining the sad middle-aged men looking for bargain Best Of comps in the basement. It was the internet wot dunnit, obviously, although even before then you'd be hard pushed to find the obscure indie/Jazz/electronica album you wanted in that place, so you went to indie record shops, and the few of those that remain must be on their last legs.

I had to laugh reading this article on the BBC site, starting as it does with a traumatised father of three daughters saying: 'HMV is my soother to the pain of going to the shops' - the poor sod. Imagine having to go shopping with the wife (presumably) and three girls, only to find that your only place of refuge is closed! Married life, eh? Guess they need his credit card...and he lives in Lincoln, so perhaps there is nowhere else for a typical male to browse except HMV. He couldn't find a thing to spend his £50 on, which surprises me because last time I looked that would only buy you a couple of CDs and DVDs. Come on Nick, I'm rooting for you - leave the family (for good) and start a new life which includes only shopping online or in an independent record or book store - you can do it.

I gave up shopping with LJ in that sense years ago, because the time I said I'd be in a recorde shoppe was always at least 30mins short of the real time I needed, which caused her to stand there fuming whilst I made a frantic selection. That or she'd agree to go away for another 30mins. It took us years to work out that I was best left to shop alone for the important stuff like records and books, leaving joint excursions for boring items such as fridges, cookers and beds. Without her, I'd have nothing to store food in, cook on, or sleep in, I confess.

Whilst I'm in confessional mode, may I say that some of my earliest purchases from recorde shoppes weren't made by me at all. I used to write the required album on a scrap of paper and give it to Mum, who was going into town that Saturday morning. Whether or not the assistant in Woolies was surprised when a middle-aged housewife bought a Mott The Hoople album I'll never know. A few years later I worked out that my free time needn't be spent on record-hunting when it was easy to skip a few school lessons and do the same thing. That's how I got where I am today, you know, missing double maths in favour of bagging a good album.

Recorde shoppes today have the atmosphere of a morgue when I go in them, which admittedly is mid-week, although I don't imagine them exactly buzzing on a Saturday. Customers amount to a handful (at most) of men who bring to mind vultures pecking at a corpse. CDs are cheaper now than they've ever been because they too represent an ancient time when only a physical object carried individual albums. Kiddos today probably don't even recognise that little silver disc, never mind the large black one.

Well, I hope HMV finds a solution for the sake of those it employs (and father of three, Nick).

HMV listening booths in the 50s

Everything Lost - The Latin American Notebook Of William Burroughs (Ohio State University Press, 2007)

I throw all my old notebooks away. There will inevitably be a great demand for more of my words when I'm gone and I wouldn't want people peering into my state of mind, psychoanalysing such statements as 'Don't forget to buy bread on the way home', or 'Shoes have started leaking, must get those I saw in TK Maxx'. What William Burroughs wrote in his Latin American notebook is marginally more interesting. More info on it here at Reality Studio.

Katie Price Stars In Pulp Fiction Classic!

A ripping yarn of back street surgery and sordid celebrity behaviour featuring temptress Katie Price...

Bernard Parmegiani 1975

Boredom Now In Handy Tube

Pre-teen Gadget Addiction Dilemma

Ah, what joy it was to see the kids' faces light up at Christmas; illuminated by iPad screens, that is. I wondered if it was a good thing, but they weren't mine so I don't have the dilemma of deciding at what age it's appropriate to satisfy their techno-gadget cravings. That's assuming they have them, and I don't doubt that they have. Via advertising, or at least one of their peers proudly boasting of Face Time with a friend, they'll be tech addicts before they reach their teens.

The most complex gadget I had for Christmas as a kid was the game, Mouse Trap.

OK, it's components were only made of plastic, but believe me it was harder to set up than an iPad. In fact, adults were required, and they'd given up trying by Boxing Day. Perhaps that was just my family. Mum would say 'Oh, all we had was a tangerine', and so the line of similar reactions to the incremental excess in the Christmas gift department goes...all the way back to cave-dwelling parents saying 'All I had was a stone' when seeing their kids unwrap a mammoth bone (small, if poor) or tusk (middle class), or even coat made from mammoth fur (upper).

Over this Christmas I watched young offsprings of my family gleefully calling each other, from across the room, just to talk to their faces on a screen, or not, since the thrill of seeing faces magically appear seemed to render them speechless. But what fun they had dialling up relatives, constantly, and to the same effect.

I found it fascinating to observe full-blown gadget love blossom before my very eyes. There is no stopping this evolution, regardless of the wishes of parents who might secretly yearn for simpler times (and less expensive gift requirements). Perhaps a few die-hard (middle-class) idealists bought toys made of wood for kids of the same age, or even Mouse Trap - 'But it's so retro, darling!'.

Their mum and I agreed that the effects of life in the techno playpen were incalculable, and I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for parents swept up by the tsunami of scientific progress in the form of techno-consumerism. Traditional forms of play involving physical interaction, building things and active creativity are supposedly better for kids. I'm no child psychologist, but I can't help wondering if staring at screens and reacting to pre-programmed entertainment will do the same job.

The obvious danger is that the youngest generation are being transformed into screen zombies at a very early age. Their attachment to a device will render the sights, sounds and smells of Real Life insignificant compared to whatever is happening on the gadget. I see enough adults absorbed in this scenario; the undead of the city walking into each other on the pavements and stepping out into traffic. For them the architectural wonders of London, never mind other people, need not exist, cocooned as they are in the virtual world.

As I age, the gulf between us techno retards and the Advanced Race of New Humans grows wider. Well, I'm not that much of a Luddite, but I'm far from being a cutting-edge consumer. Optimists will say that the wonders of the world made available at the push of a button will encourage young users to explore Real Life in ways they could never have imagined before. They will meet new friends via the social network, and having their brains fried by the info stream in the process is a small price to pay. Perhaps all that is true. I can't argue with the Tecchies; they've vicariously absorbed the wisdom of Steve Jobs and William Gibson, via apps, and the world is theirs. Polo-necked, bespectacled, they spout evangelical sermons from behind lecterns - all the world's a stage from which they constantly lecture us about the wonders of technology. The fact that their wisdom and wealth does not actually filter down to many of their subject is irrelevant. This is and always will be their age.

Meanwhile, on Boxing Day, I was tutored in the art of playing Skylanders by a ten-year-old. He was Hot Dog and I was Crusher.

I must confess that I would have been happy playing this all day, but that might have been considered a little unsociable. I followed Hot Dog around, smashing things, lifting rocks and, most fun of all, reeling in a floating island. Mouse Trap doesn't get close to this! The kid reassured me that I was a good learner. I now see him as my mentor, and will be asking him advice on everything from careers to relationships once he's on Facebook. When it comes to computer games, I would say 'If you can't beat 'em', join 'em', but due to their addictive nature I'd get nothing done, including this blog. I'm sure you'll agree that would be a terrible loss to the world...

Book: Techniques Of Advertising Photography (pub: Nikolaus Karpf, 1963)