bookmark_borderFrom the bottom

It’s the anticipation he fears.




The endless tumble in the pit of his stomach. Not knowing. Giving up everything with no return promised. But it arrives. Always. Regardless of interaction, whether gentle caress, stinging slap, or simply ignored. It always returns.

He yearns. Pines. Flinches. Wants. Adores. Hides. Desire, desire, desire.

There is a certainty of nothing. He wants everything and silently pushes for more. For enough. The junkie fixed on the immediate. More, more, more. Now, now, now. Stop. More. Stop. More. Stop. More. More. Stop. Stop. STOP.

He melts and dissolves, static flows downstream, he gives it all away. Willingly. Wantonly. Wantingly. The nervous calm arrives. At her word he is nothing of himself and everything she commands.

He bows to it. Embraces it. Sinks in to the swirling emotions, chemicals billowing cloud-like through him. Breath shallow. Lips dry. Eyes flickering nervously. Covered. Dark. Isolated. Connected. He touches her soul once more as his explodes. Ka-fuckin-boom.

Darkness amplifies the noises, deafening and shrill in his ears. His brain a hurtling race car, charging through the gears, tyres leaving strict marks as he burns, trying to place the sounds, always in second place.

He guesses anyway. Wrong. Right. Game of chance. Take a card from the Top.

Reactions spark nerve ends before the movement even begins.

New sounds heard through tightly closed eyes, veiled in black. A fist, clenched tight, muscles scream and roar.

Then the chemicals fry his brain.

Inside, through it all, he is smiling.

Happy, content, safe, loved.

bookmark_borderConfusion on the way home

“Ohhh that reminds me,” she said “I’ve got a mince pie for you”.

Considering we had been talking about the screeching fan belt of the car in front of us, this was a bit of a leap. I’m not sure what reminded her but I let that slide, you don’t learning nothing after 10 years of marriage. Quickly my mind caught up with hers and I too started to ponder dinner.

“Great,” I said. “Hmmm, do we have any potatoes in or shall I stop at the shops?”

A simple enough request, one would have thought, yet the silence remained broken only by her bemused glance.

“ummmm, yes there are some in the fridge…” she assured me, with a definite tone of bewilderment.

Unsure of her confusion I continued, “Hmmm, is there any veg? or maybe just have beans with it…?”

Her response was less than satisfactory, unless you are a farmyard animal perhaps, but where I grew up snorting doesn’t really constitute an answer. I glanced across at her and could just see the beginnings of a smile, creeping across her face. What was going on? Had I missed something? I tried to figure out what she was up to but she derailed my train of thought.

“Why?” she asked, with a hint of a smirk.

OK, this was getting annoying. What was she grinning at? Can’t a man consider the dietary requirements of his evening whilst driving home? What is so wrong with enjoying a nice cooked pie with some delicious boiled potatoes, some beans, a nice big slab of butter and a cold beverage. After all, there was entertainment in the form of football later on, so best to set myself up with a hearty meal! Food of kings if you ask me.

So why was my Queen mocking me so?

Determined to find out I pushed aside thoughts of her forthcoming beheading (I may be a handsome king but I rule my land with an iron fist) and pressed on.

“To have with the mince pie for dinner… I was thinking we could just chuck on some bea…. Hey, what IS so funny… what are you laughing at!”

Try as I might I could not get a word from the giggling buffoon sitting in the passenger seat next to me. Perplexed, I left her to it and tried to figure out what it was that was making my wife laugh so hard that she had tears streaming down her cheeks and was starting to have trouble breathing…

Then I realised.

I shall now pause this story to explain that this, dear reader, is why I hate Christmas.

It’s not the rushing about like an idiot to find presents that at least look like you didn’t just pick them up because it was all that was left in the shop.

Nor is it the bombardment of adverts on TV, radio, billboard and newspaper.

It’s not even the “it’s Christmas so everyone must be jolly” attitude that is rammed down your throat at every occasion.

No, the reason I hate Christmas is because I seem to be the only person who makes the effort to ensure that the, somewhat distinct and pronounced, difference between mince and mincemeat is properly communicated.

Yes I know mincemeat used to have meat in it but it doesn’t anymore and, truth be told, I quite enjoy a mince round now and again. Anyway, just because I refuse to bow to peer pressure whilst the rest of you weak-willed, soft-minded idiots happily follow the crowd of sheep bleating “mince pie, mince pie” does NOT make it one and the same thing.

I’m sorry, I refuse to budge. I refuse to yield. I am right. YOU are ALL WRONG. That small, round, deliciously sweet and spicy pie you have with your morning coffee on Christmas morning, is a MINCEMEAT pie. What is so hard about remembering that? Is it the flashy lights on the tree? The brain damage from barging your way through the drinks aisle at the supermarket? Or perhaps you forgot to put the brandy on the Christmas pudding this year because you drank it all and turned your brain to mush, you bumbling, drunken fool.

Regardless. Mincemeat is not mince.

Now, where were we, ohhh yes…

“Darling, I love you dearly, you are the light of my life, the air in my lungs and everything that is good in my world. But for fuck’s sake, STOP LAUGHING AT ME!!!”

bookmark_borderToo simple

So here’s the thing. We all use computers to do things. Whether it’s hardcore hacking, or browsing the internet for aubergine recipes, it’s just a tool that does ‘stuff’. Right?

As such, once you’ve mastered the basics and understand the main conceptual ideas, it’s a pretty easy tool to use. The mouse is relatively intuitive after a quick demonstration, the keyboard remains familiar to those who remember those clicky-clacky things that occasionally went shzipp-BING! You know, the ones you see in old movies. Typist writers I think they were called. On the whole, the mechanics of using a computer are pretty straightforward.

Conceptually you can explain a lot of the workings of a computer using simple, common, metaphors. You have a desktop to work on, you put your files into folders, you have a trash can for rubbish. The basic concepts are pretty straightforward. Moving on you start to understand that certain programs do certain things, and that you need to know which program will help you do something with a certain file.

Have I missed anything?

So, you can turn the computer on, use the mouse, start programs, work with files, operate the keyboard and you are learning more and more everyday. Doesn’t take too long and there are plenty of classes for those who are daunted by the whole idea. You don’t have to be technical to use a computer.

Yet some people seem to think it’s OK to dive straight in and start using a computer without any form of training or instruction. They don’t consult user manuals, or online help, they don’t take the time to understand the basics of what they are using.

Let’s look at something similar.

The first time I ever drove a car I was I started on a busy main road. I started the car, managed to get it into a gear and pulled straight out into oncoming traffic. Not knowing how to STOP the car I had no option but to chug forward and try and figure out what that big round thing in front of me would do. I grabbed it with both hands and twisted it and the car changed course, slamming into a car parked at the side of the road. All around me horns were blaring, angry gestures were being made and some people were suggesting that I should “learn how to drive”.

The next day I booked my first ever driving lesson.

So, to everyone who has bought a computer and has just swerved out onto the wrong side of the road, without their lights on, can you please just pause for a second. Learn what you are doing, take a lesson.

Once you’ve done that, THEN you can come and ask me for help!

bookmark_borderSTOP THE BUS!

It simply cannot be almost 2007. I refuse! Turn back the clocks, rewind the days, reset the weeks and recall the months. I DEMAND A RECOUNT!

What a year it’s been. Good and bad. Mainly good.

I WAS gonna do a list of lists type post but, frankly m’dears I cannae be arsed. I’ve been fighting a cold since Christmas Eve eve and have little enough energy as it is.

And it’s much better to look forward at times like these.

Forward to the new job, forward to the continuation of learned habits and regimes, forward to some resolutions I’ve already made but not as “New Year” resolutions (we don’t do those). Forward is where we are headed and where we are focussed.

And that’s probably why time flies so fast!

Whatever 2007 brings, I hope it treats you well. Thank you to all for visiting this past year, and as I don’t see any let up in the nonsense that floats around in my head I’ll expect you all back for more of the same in the coming year.

Ohh, that and a new design (which I’d hoped to get posted today but.. meh… no chance).

Have a wonderful Hogmanay, see you next year!

bookmark_borderWhat's in a name?

Anyone who has been visiting this site for a while will know that I have a bit of an ‘issue’ with the identity.

It’s been through “snowgoon” to “something” to “gordonmclean.something” to “” to “informationally overloaded” (and I’ve probably missed a couple).. and I’m sure you will agree when I say that THE MADNESS MUST STOP!!!

Thing is… well… I dunno about you but I’m just not that keen on “informationally overloaded” as a title. I’ve considered shortening it to “info-overload”, and considered switching it back to being a tagline.

I just don’t know. It’s a quandary indeed but I’m leaning on having just “Gordon McLean” as the title, with “is informationally overloaded” as the tagline.

And I know I should just make up my bloody mind and either do it or shut up but, honestly, these things trouble me. Do they trouble you?

Or maybe I should go back to the snowgoon days… or the something days.. re-introduce the blue eye… ahhhh memories.

[This post was brought to you by the archive code I stumbled across this evening}