Tonight is the type of night when I could easily cry, or explode somehow. There seems to be a palpable haze of tension, a type of vague pressure looming. I’ve been inside most of the day, had an extra cup of coffee than I usually would and have spent the evening in fairly poor company which isn’t even my own. I retired from said company to begin something, anything which could satisfy or slay the loom which has wrapped me up. I’ve picked up book after book, watched an excellent video and listened to some good music. This was after the obligatory 9± hrs spent loitering on social media.

Eventually I turned here.

Perhaps this unquenchable feeling is a result of opiates administered during my birth, perhaps it’s just life. What ever the sad answer to that  sad question I have managed to twist my way to the subject at hand, that of the books, film, music and art I have come across recently. First, a note on Elliot Smith – this is the music to loom, doom, bluster or lose to. Please enjoy with caution.

Now, Trainspotting – I have put this book of for some time, things with its reputation always disappoint by either exceeding expectations or not living up to them. Having read and watched Filth and also having seen the Trainspotting film I didn’t have high hopes. However, it is excellent.  Fucking excellent. Can’t really put it better than that. He’s a good Hibs man and it’s a fucking excellent book. Eh.
Next, To Have and Have Not – This is solid. Breathless but very cerebral. Hemingway. The characters are hard as fuck, cool as fuck and living a helluva life. The type of life which makes you really wonder and fall into the funks I described earlier. The various intersecting plots are scattered and real and Harry Morgan is much better than his rip off portrayal in Dexter.

After these, both intersecting plots from multiple characters viewpoints I shall touch upon the epic which preceded them chronologically – the Count of Monte Cristo. I started this book five years ago however never finished it, I decided to do so this summer when cycle touring from Barcelona to Rome. Mediterranean epic is a given, and while it was enjoyable to read this alongside the country where it was set, it still began to drag. I understand it’s brilliance but I really wanted some sweeter vengeance. Some more fucked up shit was due those cunts. Perhaps that’s a generational thong, perhaps it’s personal.

Meanwhile, I’m tapping away and Bob Dylan’s Boots of Spanish Leather just came on. Timeless, ethereal melancholic genius. And a good segway into music. Recently, I have been listening to Sound of Silver by LCD soundsystem repeatedly. Especially, Someone Great and All my friends. Previously, I’d thought them twee and coy and lacking in some essential component but this album is contrary to that. It’s enough happy to move quickly to but not over the top.

The new, and old, Mogwai albums have been getting plenty of listens. This is in part preparation for their concert with Mark Cousins this month, and the opening ceremony for the Edinburgh International Festival. And because they are excellent. The Deep Time opening event was brilliant, a unifying experience where I could briefly ignore the tourists – it would seem predominantly wankers- who have invaded.

In so far as festival, I have been to one show and a night out outside of this. These were, the always funny David O’Doherty. Less funny than previous times but funny and for everyone. I feel like I just punched a friend by saying that. (We fist pumped to the slogan #bones once. Pronounced- hashtagbones. Editors note – Unfortunately this phrase never took off in popular parlance however feel free to use it daily if you so desire. #desire.)

The night out I went to was called soulsville, it is a Latin funk night held in summerhall. I enjoyed it and enjoyed dancing however it was populated almost entirely by liberal hipster wankers- probably like myself, I hear you cry- which the festival has become synonymous with. I won’t give any more away otherwise you may start trying to guess my identity, you who does not read this. Sonically, we are deep into the solo in the Dazed and confused on the Song Remains the Same by Led Zeppelin.

Finally, the video I watched earlier in the evening was ‘Show down at Aspen’ a short documentary about Hunter S Thomsoms failed attempts at becoming Sherrif of Aspen, Colorado. It reminded me of the problems which the Labour Party have been facing and made me want to explode.

It is easy to watch these incredible individuals and to despair. So do that. Carpe diem moments aren’t worth the language their written in. I jest, of course things are going to change but it will possibly be hard. Read that letter Hunter wrote to his friend. I’m going to London to try and change me. It begins with me.
Fairly uninformative, un-starred (!!!) reviews are the way to start that.

I’ll leave with the instructions to a conceptual art piece; On small (3.75cm x 5.05cm), brightly coloured (yellow, blue, green, orange or pink) post-it (3m) notes write one word in thinly lettered black ink capitals. The word should be a noun which deflates the reader. Previous examples include suffering, despair, anguish, dread and angst. Place the finished note somewhere it can be read so as to remind you.