Toothpaste stains

I GOT UP AT 4:30 this morning. I feel like I could do with a year's more sleep but there you go. After smoking lots of cigarettes, trotting down the shop for smoked mackerel, Hovis bread and 2 litres of cyder (I'm cutting down) plus my tropical fruit juice (supposedly it's as good for you as eating veg, but I find that hard to believe)... after all this I scurried back home and wasted an hour watching BBC's early morning news and rubbish. The guy presenting used to be ITN's royal correspondent but I can't remember his name. Nick something. Being royal correspondent meant tilting your head slightly and inflecting the voice all sentimental-like whenever mentioning the Queen Mother. I was never convinced the Queen Mum was quite as kindly as portrayed. For one thing HM the Queen appeared, from the vast distance I view her, to be completely under her thumb. Since her Mum's death she seems to have become much more of her own woman. Her fashion sense appears to have improved immensely. The Queen is the funkiest-dressing old woman alive. With the exception of Rosie, the Trance granny who made luminous laurel crowns. I met her at the Warp club (Rosie, not the Queen) under an enormous railway arch round the corner from the London Dungeon, but I had seen her picture in the music press. She was famous for her octogenarian psychedelic ways.

There is a bevy of sparrows down my road. They live in a hedge and chirp their tuneless little heads off every morning. Cheep! Chirp! Twit! Twat! Twitter!! They say. My nightingale, who used to live in the nearest tree to our house is still on migration in West Africa. He or she won't be back until the spring. I know it was a nightingale because I matched the bird by appearance and song. The song was amazing, it tweetled and twittered all night like an LSD canary. I kept my window open especially. O man those sparrows are chirruping LOUD this morning. Sparrows all but disappeared from London about 15 years ago. They used to hang out in flocks along with the pigeons in parks. Even today, though you see them more, they're rare.

HEROIN! I haven't used any since I non-used the other day.. how many days clear am I now..? Seven days. I scored on December 23rd. Just checked me blog. That's the convenience of being a blogger. I know the day and date I did everything. Now I'm off to get my methadone. They're usually open by 8:30. I took half as much methadone as usual yesterday and today and am not feeling it so far... does this make me Addict-Invincible or will a horrible rebound come and slam me with creepytime withdrawal..? I bet it will. But there ya go. I want OFF that crap. The sooner the better. Chemical slavery. Heroin without any fun at all. I hate it.

I've got to go. Those sparrows are distracting me bigtime.

This is the twit-twit jug-jug chirrupydirrupydoodles song of the nightingale:



WOW I can't believe this, this is ROSIE from the Warp on film!!!



Warp Club London 1999: on lots of lovely MDMA hippieflipping I accidentally took 2 Mitsubishis at once in here, fell asleep and woke up flying through the roof. That was a good night (well morning: the club finished at 9pm so I never usually turned up till 6 or 7 in the morning)...
The place looks sparse because it was probably 11am by the time this was shot, and there were at least 5 more rooms of equal or bigger size, it was a HUGE club...
... ukh was the dancing really that terrible? I must have been on drugs!!



Illustrated: wow! a sink dirtier than mine! BBC Breakfast with Dermott Murnughan and Sian somethingorother; HM the Queen, looks good in a hat; a nightingale

Rip van Gledwood II

STILL UNWELL... yes, Rip van Gledwood II. Yesterday, I slept literally 20 hours with only piss-breaks.

I can't even talk about going to bed last night, because it wasn't last night, it was yesterday daytime and I wasn't in bed. I slumped in an armchair at 11am and slept all afternoon and evening through and stirred myself at some point in the early hours around 2am, when I peed like Niagara falls. Then immediately back to sleep. And sleep. And deeper sleep. My phone was full of missed calls so I know I slept very deeply indeed. Finally, around 5am I woke up. Urinated again. Slept two hours more.

Then, after 7am Friday morn, I considered myself "up", so I wandered to my bedroom and lay down in bed, where I slept "properly" (ie not hunched over) till after 8:30.

All in all that's past 20 hours' sleep. 22 hours perhaps.

This is what I hate about my sleep: it strikes me down like some manner of disease and I wake up not refreshed but sluggish and unwell and wishing I had not bothered getting up at all.

Well I'm awake now. And I survived. And a new day dawned 16 hours ago, meaning I missed Chogstable's dawn chirping, though a bird whose chirrups and trills bore striking resemblance to Chogstable's melodic twirly-whirling was trilling its head off earlier when I went off for methadone and sweet chili chicken pizza. Chogstable is my personal nightingale. He's not, of course, my pet, because he doesn't live with me. But he chirps his feathery little head off just for me every night, the tiny entertainer!

Now I'm weary once more and for lack of anything more inspiring to post thought I'd brocade you with this dullardly tale. I hope your last couple of days were a little more inspiring plus ~ of course ~ I wish THE CHEERIEST WEEKEND TO Y'ALL..!

Was Gledwood zunächst tat/What Gledwood did next

FOR ENGLISH, SEE UNDERNEATH:

Heute schlief ich fast den ganzen Tag lang. Ich wachte nach 16.00 Uhr.

Zuerst musste ich zur Apotheke, um mein Methadon abzuholen.

Dann ging ich in den Supermarkt, und kaufte eine Pizza. Sie war sehr frisch und nett.

Am Bahnhof, hörte ich das Zirpen noch einanderer Nachtigall!

Sie klang genau wie eine Spieldose.

Flapper saß noch auf der Fernsehantenne des Nachbars.

Ich denke, sie liebt das Digitalfernsehen über alles. Das hat ihr so vielen Luxus-Barsche gegeben!


I slept nearly all day today, waking up after four in the afternoon. First I had to go to the chemist's to pick up my methadone. Then I went in the supermarket and bought a pizza. It was really fresh and nice. At the railway station I heard yet another nightingale chirping! It sounded just like a music-box. Flapper was still on the neighbours' TV aerial. I think he loves digital television more than anything. It has given him so many luxury new perches!


Blogpost of the day: Caving, Philippines-style!

Gledwoods Vogelein

HIER ist mein besonderer deutschsprachiger Artikel über den kleinen Vogel in meiner Straße.
Dieses Jahr, scheint es mehr Vogelarten als je zuvor zu geben, die von den Bäume und Dachern zwitschern.
Vor zwei wochen zeigte sich eine Ringeltaube, die auf der Fernsehantenne meines Nachbars sitzt.
Ringeltauben sind eher flatterhaft und schüchtern.
Sie gurrt und gurrt praktisch der ganzer Tag. Ich ahnte, dass sie in mir verknallte sich. Jedesmal wenn ich die Haustür öfnete, oder die Straße entlang trabte ~ da war sie! Hinter der Mülltonne meines Nachbars, hinter dem Kirschenbaum... immer hinter etwas. Sie tat, als ob sie im Gras pickte; dann sah sie ganz erschüttert aus. Sie klappte die Flügeln und auf dem Dach verschwand. Deshalb nannte ich sie "Flapper".
Letzte Woche fand Flapper noch einandere Ringeltaube. Sie sitzen einander gegenüber und girren den ganzen Tag lang.
Mein anderer Lieblingsvogel ist eine Nachtigall, die Chogstable oder Chogga heißt.
Ich nannte sie Chogga nach ihrem Lied, das geht:
twit twit twit
jug jug
mit vielen komplizierten Triller darin.
Als ich das Thema googlete, fand ich, dass die Nachtigall in England überwintert, und dann im Sommer nach West- und Zentralafrika fliegt.
Sie seht sehr unwichtig aus ~ ganz klein und braun. Aber ihr Lied ist eine der schönster aller Vogellieder.
Chogga lebt oben im Kirschenbaum neben meinem Haus, darin Flapper auch saß, bevor sie ihren Partner fand.
Im Winter sah ich Chogga im Gebüsch meines Nachbars. Heutzutage sehe ich sie nicht. Aber ich höre sie laut und klar!
Die ganze Nacht, und fast den ganzen Tag lang zirpt sie ihr tranzendent melodische Lied, und ich fühle, als ob ich von einem romantischen Gedicht träume!


J W VON GOETHE

WANDRERS NACHTLIED II

Über allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh,
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch;

Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur, balde
Ruhest du auch.



LINKS ÜBER ZWEISPRACHIGKEIT
Bilingual myths: http://www.nethelp.no/cindy/myth.html
Bilingual Confusion blog: http://bilingualconfusion.blogspot.com/
Multilingualism (Wikipedia; English): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multilingualism
Bilingualismus (Wikipedia; Deutsch): http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bilingualismus
Languages of Belgium (Wikipedia; English): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Languages_of_Belgium
Situation linguistique de la Belgique (Wikipedia; French): http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Situation_linguistique_de_la_Belgique
Languages of Switzerland (Wikipedia; English): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Languages_of_Switzerland
Sprachen in der Schweiz (Wikipedia; German): http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sprachen_in_der_Schweiz
Langues en Suisse (Wikipedia; Francais): http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Langues_en_Suisse
Code-switching (Wikipedia; English): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Code-switching
Code-Switching (Wikipedia; Deutsch): http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Code-Switching

More about Chogstable the Nightingale

SOME GOOGLING into the subject, has revealed that Chogstable, my nightingale, is probably a boy. And that there might well be two or three of him. Or else he has severe insomnia, because he's frequently to be heard singing at all times throughout the day. Nightingale is said to mean "songstress of the night". But the two assumptions ~ that it is the female who sings and at night are wrong. It is, so I read, the male nightingale who does most of the singing. In the early hours of course his song becomes far more distinctive for lack of warbling, tweetling competition. But nightingales are to be heard chirruping away at all and any times during the 24 hours.

If you ever go on holiday to Togo or Chad and think you hear Chogstable twittering his head off at 4:30am ~ you're not going crazy. It might actually be Chogstable himself! Nightingales winter in Western and Central Africa, returning here by mid-April (so how come I first spotted Chogstable in January? Looking like a small thrush without the speckles (ie just like a nightingale), hanging out around dense vegetation ie behaving just like a nightingale. Every night I spotted him around the same tree he sings in today.) How could Chogstable be here, when he ought to have been having a chirp in some mango-grove in Gabon?

The little nightingales are said to cross the Sahara Desert in one fell swoop (so to speak) sleeping as they fly (which some birds can do), thrumming their tiny wings nonstop. On they flutter, across the Straits of Gibraltar or wider Mediterranean Sea, finally touching down for a long-overdue roost in Southern Spain or Italy.

May is said to be the best month to hear nightingale song, when the birds are breeding. In June, they are tending their nests of babies as couples. By July they take to the skies once more, thrum-thrum-thrumming away, off to their second homes and luxury gîtes along the Gold Coast, the Côte d'Ivoire or the Congo or Volta rivers...

Actually having read their supposed migration-timetable, which implies they ping too and from Africa not once a year, but twice. I'm confused. If anyone has better information, please let me know...

LINKS:
Wikipedia nightingale
Wikipedia nachtigall
Springerlink: First arrival dates of nightingale to Central Croatia

Any good videos (if I can find 'em) und Deutsche Übersetzung kommen später/coming later.

SPEAKING OF SINGERS
This is pretty remarkable:
ROSLYN KIND: CAN YOU READ MY MIND
What do you think of her voice? Whose does her singing remind you of?



An old clip:

The Nightingale

Befiederter Samstag ~ die Nachtigall
Feathery Friday on Saturday



Romeo und Julia
Akt 3 Szene 5

Julia:

Willst du schon gehen? Der Tag ist ja noch fern.
Es war die Nachtigall, und nicht die Lerche,
Die eben jetzt dein banges Ohr durchdrang;
Sie singt des Nachts auf dem Granatbaum dort.
Glaub, Lieber, mir: es war die Nachtigall.

Romeo:

Die Lerche war´s, die Tagverkünderin,
Nicht Philomele; sieh den neid´schen Streif,
Der dort im Ost der Frühe Wolken säumt.
Die Nacht hat ihre Kerzen ausgebrannt,
Der muntre Tag erklimmt die dunst´gen Höhn;
Nur Eile rettet mich, Verzug ist Tod.

Julia:

Trau mir, das Licht ist nicht des Tages Licht;
Die Sonne haucht ihr Luftbild aus,
Dein Fackelträger diese Nacht zu sein,
Dir auf dem Weg nach Mantua zu leuchten;
Drum bleibe noch; zu gehen ist ja noch nicht not.

Romeo:

Lass sie mich greifen, ja, lass sie mich töten!
Ich gebe gern mich drein, wenn du es willst.
Nein, jenes Grau ist nicht des Morgens Auge,
Der bleiche Abglanz nur vom Cynthias Stirn.
Das ist auch nicht die Lerche, deren Schlag
Hoch über uns des Himmels Wölbung trifft.
Ich bleibe gern; zum Gehen bin ich verdrossen.
Willkommen, Tod! hat Julia dich beschlossen.
Nun Herz? Noch tagt es nicht, noch plaudern wir.

Julia:

Es tagt, es tagt! Auf! Eile! Fort von hier!
Es ist die Lerche, die so heiser singt,
Und falsche Weisen, rauhen Misston gurgelt.
Man sagt, der Lerche Harmonie sei süß;
Nicht diese; sie zerreist die unsre ja.
Die Lerche, sagt man, wechselt mit der Kröte
Die Augen; möchte sie doch auch die Stimme!
Die Stimm´ ist´s ja, die Arm aus Arm uns schreckt,
Dich von mir jagt, dass sie den Tag erweckt.
Stets hell und heller wird´s; wir müssen scheiden.

Romeo:

Stets heller - und stets dunkler unsre Leiden.


Im Winter gab's eine Nachtigall, die hoch oben im Kirschenbaum lebte.


Am 4 oder 5 Uhr morgens, als ich Schokoladenkeks einkaufte, laufte sie die Straße entlang, und dann sitzte sie im Gebüsch meines Nachbars.


In winter, we had a nightingale, who lived high in Flapper's cherry tree.

When I used to go out to buy chocolate biscuits at 4 or 5 a.m. there he was, running along the street. Then he would go and perch in my neighbour's bushes.



Das Lied der Nachtigall ist einer der schönster aller Vogellieder.
The song of the nightingale is one of the most beautiful of all birdsongs.

NIGHTINGALE SINGING CARTOON
ZEICHENTRICKFILM: SINGENDER NACHTIGALL



Romeo and Juliet
Act 3 Scene 5

JULIET

Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

JULIET

Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.

ROMEO

Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay than will to go:
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.

JULIET

It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
O, now I would they had changed voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

ROMEO

More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!


HÖREN SIE DAS LIED! ERSTAUNLICH!
HEAR THE SINGING! AMAZING!

Eine außerordentliche Aufnahme (kein Video).
An excellent recording (no video).