Long-suffering readers of the blog may recall that a couple of years ago I went through a bit of an obsession with the moon. (1, 2)
Yeah. Not Mark Kozelek’s Sun Kil Moon, messiah claimant Sun Myung Moon and his Unification Church, or even Ban Ki-moon, eighth Secretary General of the United Nations.
[More, occasionally stroke-related, whimsy here.] Continue reading Moonage Daydream
Hi there! Sorry to miss you last week – Mrs Stroke Bloke and I had just spent the weekend in Skye. I’ve been particularly keen to get there since I read Virginia Woolf’s To The Lighthouse during my creative writing degree.
That linked recording of The Skye Boat Song is bonkers. The production, for a start. Then there’s the incredible whistling of Roger Whitaker – you’ve never heard anything like it. Take that, Otis Redding. And I’ve not even mentioned that someone thought it would be a good idea to get Des O’Connor in to sing it?!
[You’ll need a palate cleanser after that. Why not try the Apoplexy Newsletter?]
Continue reading The Old Man of Storr
I’ve been kind of obsessed with chairs for around a decade-and-a-half.
I can’t remember if it started when I got a copy of 100 Masterpieces from the Vitra Design Museum Collection, or if I got the book because the seeds of my obsession had already started to sprout.
In fact, I’m surprised this hasn’t cropped up on the blog before.
[For things that don’t show up on the blog, check out the apoplexy newsletter.] Continue reading Three Chairs!!!
My love for BBC Radio 4’s PM programme, as hosted by Eddie Mair, is well-documented on this website (1, 2). During #indyref the first, I remember him conducting one of the better interviews I heard with Scotland’s First Minister.
However, it’s becoming increasingly apparent – from, for example, the Today programme’s coverage of yesterday’s news that the Westminster government is mulling making substantial payments to the EU to retain financial services passporting rights for the City of London– that The Herald‘s chief reporter has captured a larger truth about the BBC’s output.
I think the talking heads who review newspapers on London TV shows like Marr are running out of excuses for not understanding Scotland.
— David Leask (@LeaskyHT) October 16, 2016
[Yes, somehow I’ll pivot this into strokes and art. Read on to find out how.] Continue reading Thought For The Day
It’s early on Monday morning, and I’ve just seen producer Jeremy Thomas and director Ben Wheatley’s adaptation of J.G. Ballard’s High-Rise. Maybe that’s why I’m in a slightly shitty mood.
Not because it’s not a good movie. It is. I think.
[I’d be happy if you’d like to extend the conversation, at the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading S-O-S
This is the fourth birthday I’ve celebrated in the post-stroke, apoplectic.me world. And it’s a significant one. Really, any birthday after the one you forget because you’ve had a massive haemorrhagic stroke two weeks later is significant.
But specifically, Mrs Stroke Bloke has taken to referring to me during the week of 15th September 2016 as “The Answer”.
Last week’s post on the nature of memory ended with a scene from Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? – the (loose) inspiration for Blade Runner.
‘Does she know?’ Sometimes they didn’t; false memories had been tried various times, generally in the mistaken idea that through them reactions to testing would be altered.
Eldon Rosen said, ‘No. We programmed her completely. But I think towards the end she suspected.’
But that’s science fiction, of course.
I wonder what a Philip K. Dick deep in his shroom cups would make of the #Eurovision pixelgasms pic.twitter.com/GHTtHz3Gd0
— Pat Kane (@thoughtland) May 14, 2016
Continue reading My Name is Joe 2 – Partial Recall
A search of apoplectic.me for the word “memory” comes up with 50 hits – almost a quarter of the posts on the blog. Hardly surprising, when one thinks that in the weeks following The Event, I couldn’t remember my age, where I was, who the person in the chair next to my hospital bed was, or whether or not I was the Vice President of the United States.
Eventually, memories come back. Even now, Beth notices that my memories of thirty or more years ago seem to be more readily accessible than those from this week. Maybe you find the same thing. Continue reading My Name is Joe – Pt. 1
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about whether a computer could write a successful musical.
I’m pleased to report that the conclusion of Ivan Hewett’s Telegraph article and Cat Gale’s Sky Arts documentary seems to be “Yes, a computer can write a successful musical.” And I’m even more happy to relate that the answer is also “No, a computer can’t write a successful musical.”
The last two posts on the #EUreferendum weren’t really what I wanted to write about. But the things that are really exciting me right now needed to be put off a bit because they don’t happen for another month or so. And I didn’t really want to bang on about them for a full two months.
Finally, though, I can get some release. With respect to one of these events, at least.
[More banging on in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, here.] Continue reading The Hofstadter-Moebius Loop
