A Non-Post on Three Precious Fluids

So I have some scotch… Quite good scotch too, of the Signet variety (Glenmorangie) and from a much beloved birthday present-er. In the past I’d encountered the Blue Label of Johnny Walker though was not really ready for it and with this bottle I have become accustomed to drinking it what they call ‘neat,’ that is, straight up with no ice.

edmund barton.JPG

That’s right it’s Edmund Barton!
Australian Prime Minister 1901-1903-ish
No-one really knew what they were doing back then.

Happy New Year to all readers! By the way.

It draws close to midnight and amidst a bundle of other more-productive things I think there is some correlation between writing on this blog and my positive mental state. I don’t know why exactly, though it could probably be to do with being a source of tangible creative output and a thinly veiled outlet of frustration in all things music. It has been an odd sort of past 20 days full of lots of sub-standard writing ideas and pondering fascinated-ly over overly topical stories. But each voice should be its own, and if I may quote the much-loved Ives:

…[one should break away] , when necessary, from easy first sounds, or afraid of admitting that those half-truths the come to him at rare intervals, are half-true; for instance, that all art galleries contain masterpieces, which are nothing more than a history of art’s beautiful mistakes (Essays 97).

Bleak. But go on, give him a clap.

Dame Edna Everage

Dame Edna Everage

So we’ve discussed whisky and Ives (are people not mostly liquids?), I also wanted to cover bleach. Bleach is a fascinating substance we are all taught to fear from birth, like a wrathful deity able to drain the very colour from our lives. It must be pacified with abundant offerings of diluting water before it deigns to use its powers on our mould/staining issues without retribution. The bleach currently in my storage cupboard makes different demands however. It refuses to do anything in the presence of water, which makes me slightly apprehensive, but we have a jolly old time, my bleach-god and I; painting the house and furniture in concentrated goodness, hand-in-hand from room to room until the coughing fits start. Bleach is magical.

Furthermore! We can all look deeply forward to the first ever Semantic Marmot Guest Post in the coming days.

Thank-you for bearing with this outburst.


It's Bob Hawke everyone! Australian Prime Minister from 1983-1991

It’s Bob Hawke everyone! Australian Prime Minister from 1983-1991

Well. That was a poor effort. I’m going to bed.

Marmots: Uses and Their Disambiguations

So it transpires that my number one search term that overwhelmingly draws people to this site is the word “marmot.” It accounts for roughly a quarter of all my visitors, yet as actual marmot studies and related literature are sparse in this blog (to say the least), I get the feeling most people go away disappointed. Surprisingly the top ten search terms are all to do with animals: including angler fish, dairy cows, phytoplankton and Martha Argerich.


Blah. Crotchet equals 100.

[Apologies in quasi-advance for the relative lack of pictures – I can’t seem to upload them properly at the moment and it took an age just to include the two here… but I can put text in colour as a pretty substitute]. The Emperor’s New Text?

Therefore, we must take a short break from ranting about music and whatever else I normally write about and contribute something to marmot-lore. To be honest (a very British phrase I’ve picked up) I knew hardly anything about marmots, and googling ‘uses for marmots’ digs up very little dirt on our friends (pun intended). Apparently, it is the name for some debugging software, so that’s a plus.

Basically marmots are little burrowing European critters – mammals I assume – that best function as prey animals. I hesitate to suggest what exactly constitutes a ‘predator’ in good ol’ Europe. Do they even have wolves? Maybe bears. I don’t know anymore. Also they seem to enjoy living at altitude – OH I KNOW, WHAT ABOUT EAGLES and hibernate during nine-freaking months of the year, often preferring to starve to death via depleted fat reserves than prepare more effectively during their awake times. They drift towards the more exotic side of the pet spectrum with their dispersal tendencies and destructive landscaping capabilities, again not to mention the extreme part-time nature of the hibernation. So kids remember to have your proper marmot licensing as well as parental permission and don’t play outside in thunderstorms, even with your marmot as they provide little protection and are not suited to heat.

Not the most threatening of animals, the marmot and it’s small ground-dwelling rodent-esque ilk instead bide their time and allow major natural disasters to wipe out enormous chunks of larger and/or cold-blooded lifeforms before over-populating and evolving into more creative and nihilistic structures. Cowards.

I'd Rather Charleston

I’d Rather Charleston.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this refreshing summary of the marmot – one of the most mediocre creatures our planet has to offer.

Cajon Chicken

A little something from our recent quartet concert… a piece by Andre Bonetti requiring two rubber chickens (tuned roughly a quarter tone apart as it turned out, one in Bb and the other a quarter tone lower) and a Cajón – a box-like percussion instrument pronounced roughly as Ka-hon, coming together to make a rather fantastic, yet appropriate pun.

With enlightening directions such as “good luck, sucka” and “ah look. i dont really want to write a cajon cadenza. make some shit up. then come in here” it proved to be a most rewarding musical experience.

Many thanks are due to Andre for such wonderfully bizarre and colourful music!