Where's Uri? (Part 1) - The Meddling Mystic

There is controversy in the boxing world as suspicions of match fixing have followed bizarre events in the Lightweight bout between Peter McDonagh and Michael Gomez that took place in Dublin on Saturday night. The purse for the fight is being withheld and an investigation has been launched after Gomez was felled in the fifth round without McDonagh delivering anything like a convincing punch. Those of us who follow the exploits of Uri Geller, however, will not be in the least surprised by the turn of events. I actually watched the bout on TV and had the pleasure of witnessing the influence that the Incredible Israeli Illusionist exercised over Gomez. I am only too delighted to act as a medium for you in the circumstances.

Uri joined Team McDonagh last week after the two struck up a conversation on a flight to London. Uri told McDonagh of his nefarious activities in the sporting world and offered to help him overcome his rival. Gomez was reportedly "not spooked" by news of collusion between McDonagh and the Meddling Mystic; but like so many other Geller-skeptics, he was made to eat his words.

Gomez outboxed McDonagh in the opening exchanges and seemed in complete control of the bout after demolishing McDonagh in the first four rounds. McDonagh looked lost and was desperate for Uri's council. He didn't have long to wait. Stepping up to the ropes, Geller fixed his steely stare on Gomez and after a few surreptitious hand gestures, returned to his seat.

Suddenly, almost inexplicably, Gomez stopped dead in his tracks, turned his back on McDonagh and ambled leisurely away from his opponent. McDonagh seemed equally confused and after missing Gomez with nine comically unsuccessful punches, he finally felled Gomez with an innocuous clump on the back of his head.

McDonagh was hysterical after the match. When his heavily pregnant partner came bounding into the ring to congratulate him, he unceremoniously pushed her into the ropes and threw himself into the arms of a beaming Geller. The look of rejection on her face was appalling. When asked by the BBC presenter about his role after the match, Uri said: "Peter is an incredible person. He makes me believe in myself".

Sources close to Uri have revealed his intention to fix the match as a public display of cosmic retaliation for his excommunication from an international union of mystics. Geller is understood to be furious at the decision, although he has failed to tender an appeal. A representative from P.O.C.U.S. (People of Colour's Union of Spiritualists), Mr Alan Hocus, has stated that Geller's union card was revoked after his public betrayal of fellow witch Michael Jackson during the latter's trial last year.

When pushed for a comment over the weekend, Mr Hocus was quoted as saying: "Uri knows he's not allowed to use his magic in public".

Bob Dylan MixTape

It's probably best to start a series of introductory mixtapes of favourite music with King Dylan. I'm sure most people will have this stuff, but if you're new to Dylan then you shoudn't ignore Blood On the Tracks, Blonde on Blonde and Highway 61 Revisited in the way I have here, I've just listened to those albums a little too much. In any case, I prefer the recent I've-seen-Death-Dylan and the mid-70's-Romantic-amateur mystic-Dylan to his earlier stuff. The songs are available here, the username is clickerconspiracy and the password is mixtape.

1. Man in Me ~ Big Lebowski Soundtrack
2. Floater (Too Much to Ask) ~ Love & Theft
3. Positively 4th Street ~ Biograph Boxset
4. Changing of the Guards ~ Street Legal
5. You Belong to Me ~ Natural Born Killers Soundtrack
6. Abandoned Love ~ Biograph Boxset
7. Senor (Tales of Yankee Power) ~ Street Legal
8. Things Have Changed ~ Wonder Boys Soundtrack
9. Love Minus Zero/No Limit ~ Bringing it All Back Home
10. 4th Time Around ~ Blonde On Blonde
11. Man in the Long Black Coat ~ Oh Mercy
12. Not Dark Yet ~ Time Out of Mind
13. Sarah ~ Desire

Arctic Monkeys: Piece of Shit...Walk Away

Just in case all the hype tweaked your interest and you were thinking of going out and buying that new Arctic Monkeys album, don't waste your money. It's brutal. Exactly as tedious as The Strokes, Bloc Party, Kaiser Chiefs and Babyshambles. Remember the simple advice of Bill Hicks: Piece of Shit...Walk Away.

I got suckered because:
(1) I spend too much money on music,
(2) I listened to ecstatic splutterings on the very wanky BBC Newsnight Review,
(3) It's impossible for me to learn from my mistakes.

Eye Of The Tiger

This weekend i got to rise to the challenge of my rivals, fulfilling a life long ambition to run those steps in Philadelphia and stand where the once great Sly Stallone did many years ago. I dont have to say anymore because i know you're jealous.

Nearly Drowning in Drag: Back Up Story Vol 3

I need no invitation to start telling Montauk stories, but since Steve suggested it, I'm more than happy to oblige. Given that I took in the hugely enjoyable Breakfast On Pluto the other day, I'll choose to tell the tale of a cross-dressing, near-death experience of my own that I had that summer. My story is far less heroic but this way I'll kill two birds with one stone (pun-tasms aside).

It starts sometime in August in our favourite bar, the Sixmilecross. The summer had gathered a terrifying momentum at this point (there had been the extremely unpleasant experience of urinating blood) and I was probably sitting outside the bar on the hilariously unstable, but much coveted, patio chair that served as the sole item of pub furniture. I had developed a number of ungentlemanly habits in the three months of drinking in the same bar every night; one of which was to purchase all my drinks at the same time, so as to avoid the slew of monstrous line-backers that took over after 10pm. Smoking in bars is illegal in Montauk, so once I had the royal patio chair, I was reluctant to budge for the whole night. (Tips on how to dance while sitting will follow shortly).

About a month beforehand, I had met a lovely teacher from Manhatten called Angela and a little bit of romance had developed over the weekends we had spent together. Unfortuneatly, I had repeatedly fucked everything up because of my simple failure to understand the tradeoff that exists between boozing and sexual activity. When she didn't call for the first time in four weekends, a week of sub-aqeous intoxication ala the Silver Jews was in store.

Some weeks later, the fateful night of my story, Angela turned up in the Sixmilecross on the arm of some half-baked gobshite. I can tell you that I was evil with jealousy. At some point in the evening, Angela got a fit of remorse and bounded over to talk to me. In retrospect I can understand the perils of being wildly drunk and trying to negotiate gravel in heels, but when Angela tripped and collapsed on my collection of drinks, I exploded. Grabbing the two pints of Guinness she hadn’t knocked, I stood over her and flung the contents all over her dress.

The music seemed to stop for the first time that summer. I knew, by the collective sharp intake of breath, that I had done something awful (although I was too drunk to know exactly what). In panic, I picked Angela up and ran into the women’s toilet. In my mind, the only reasonable thing to do in the situation was to swap clothes completely. This seemed a turning point for Angela and she was only too happy to oblige.

I doubt that the bar took much notice of us as we emerged from the toilet, but Angela’s date seemed completely appalled and left without saying goodbye (no manners). All I can remember from the rest of the night were a few high-heel speed trials around the pool table and a vague sense that a right had been wronged.

The trouble was that when I woke the next morning, alone, my clothes were on backward and there was a pungent smell of the sea in my room. When I got to the shower I noticed a nasty gash on my head and there was blood caked on my cheek. Imagine my surprise while stripping, when I noticed I was wearing women’s knickers. I was very quiet in work that day.

Late in my shift, Angela arrived down to check on how I was feeling. It seems that she had invited me back to her friend’s boat the night before and that, completely misjudging the difficulty of jumping onto a boat in heels, I had slammed my head on the side and tumbled into the sea. She said that a local had jumped in, pulled me out of the water and that I was lucky something horrible hadn’t happened. When I gathered myself, I had started shouting at everyone and left because she wouldn’t sleep with me. Apparently there was some struggle to get her clothes back.

Angela was very sweet. She told me she'd enjoyed meeting me but she wouldn't be coming down to Montauk again. I felt like a complete fucking eejit but the luxury of Montauk was that there was no time to dwell on anything. The only thing that seemed important was to get back to the bar early enough to secure the chair. Life is better when it's simple.

Another Miracle Match

I still can't get over the excitement of Munster's demolition of Sale in Thomond yesterday. I have never seen an Irish sporting team play with such passion and conviction. For those of you across the water who couldn't see it, the game completely trumped the "Miracle Match" against Gloucester and I've no doubt that you'll be able to pick it up on DVD soon. If yesterday's support was anything to go by, it'll probably be available before the next round.

The match was remarkable for its pagentry, drama, brutality and skill. Sale came to Thomond top of the English Premiership and as one of the favourites for the tournament. In Sebastian Chabal, the marauding French Caveman, they had the toughest and most destructive player in Europe. But Sale, and in particular Chabal, were eaten alive by the Munster tackling. When Chabal came bounding onto the ball for the first time after ten minutes, it seemed impossible that anything could stop him. It took at least two replays to fully accept that Anthony Foley, a considerably smaller man, had completely floored Chabal with a pyschotic lunge straight into his chest. It was confirmation enough for me, that simple functioning of the laws of Physics do not apply in Thomond Park. Chabal seemed just as confused about what happened when he was eventually helped to his feet a few minutes later.

What made this a Great game, was the amount of dramatic moments that were squeezed out of the intensity. The sight of Chabal being picked up by Paul O'Connell on the 22 and carried all the way to his own try line was unforgettable. As was the way Barry Murphy took his try. With four players converging on him at the Sale 22, he managed to conceal his very obvious intention to such an extent that he was allowed to glide through the flalling arms of four very confused individuals to the try line. My 10ft leap in disbelief from the couch to the TV seems just as incredible in retrospect.

It was my little sister's birthday yesterday and a group of ten arrived back from the Aqua centre for the last ten minutes of the game. They seemed deeply disturbed by the animal roar that my dad and I left out when Wallace grapped his group-winning try a minute into injury time. There were darting eyes, gapeing mouths and one girl starred desperately into her popcorn for help. Truely unforgettable stuff.

Joe Meek: I Hear a New World

I picked up this remarkably strange album recently and feel compelled to tell you it's weird and wonderful story. In 1960, at the time of the recording of this album, Joe Meek was most famous for his Outer Space inspired pop tunes. A string of hits and the proceeds from a multi-million selling song called Telstar had afforded him the opportunity to set up his own label and he was determined to develop his sound along the lines of what he regarded as his very unique ability to create what the populace wanted to hear. Unfortunately, it seems that Joe was a little out of touch with reality and after being conned out of the proceeds of Telstar, he retreated to a formidably unhomely studio he had built in a dingy flat, accumulating odd sounds that might contribute to his masterpiece.

One of Joe's other main interests was The Occult. Geoff Goddard, his fellow spiritualist and part-time collaborator/hitmaker, believed as Joe did: that part of the inspiration and success they found came from beyond the grave in messages they received during seances. Joe had a vision during a tarot card reading that his idol, Buddy Holly, with whom he was deeply in love, would die tragically on February 3rd, 1958. When the day came to pass, Joe informed Buddy of his prediction and told him how glad he was it hadn't come true. Buddy Holly, of course, died on February 3rd 1959 in an horrible plane crash with Richie "La Bamba" Valens.

Joe assembled a group he christened The Blueman for the recording of I Hear a New World, insisting that they dress in silver space suits and paint themselves blue. He communicated his ideas for the album through recordings of himself humming the tunes and playing out the rhythms by tapping a spoon on a plate. Unfortuneatly, Joe was completely tone deaf and blessed with absolutely no music ability to speak of. The incongruity of moronically tuneless humming and randomly spoon-smacked plates has made these tapes legendary.

The basic ingredients for the recording of the album were an Hawaiian guitar (an highly off the wall instrument for a country band at the time), The Bluesmen rhythm section and a deliberately out of tune piano. Meek fleshed out the songs with treatments of the sounds of bubbles blown through drinking straws, his toilet flushing backwards and electrical circuits shorted together. An eerie and bafflingly snapshot of the scope of his intentions is offered in his extremely forthright and helpful album liner notes. Here is his description of the idea behind the song Globb Waterfall:

"This song may contradict the belief that there is no water on the moon; I still hope there is, if it's not external then it's inside the crust. Gravity has done a strange thing and has formed a type of overflowing well. The water rises to form a huge globule on the top of the plateau and when it's reached its maximum size, it falls with a terrific splash to the ground below, and flows away into the cracks of the moon. Then the whole cycle repeats itself again and again."

The inclusion of an extra b in Globb is consistant with his christening of the lead singer as Rodd and his tendency to hopelessly misspell everything. Meek seemed blissfully unaware of his dyslexia. He did however struggle terribly with both his sexuality and his bi-polar manic depressive condition. Despite the eccentric and gloriously innovative production of I Hear a New World, Meek was a hopelessly inadequate businessman (only 99 copies are thought to have been pressed), and he descended into a horrible cycle of extreme paranoia and destructive behaviour following the dissolution of the project.

In 1963 he got in trouble, for something to do with the laws of "decency," and the story was all over the papers. He felt that any more chance of a hit was gone. Eventually, in the face of lawsuits, lack of financial success, depression, paranoia, strange voices and increasing doses of barbiturates, Joe Meek felt done for. On Feb. 3, 1967, eight years to the day after Buddy Holly's death, he killed his landlady, then himself.

I've made a couple of the tracks available in the usual place. I'm reluctant to make the whole album available given the trauma Joe Meek went through due to his financial failure. It's not a moral stance I'm taking. It's just that I'm genuinely scared of the prospect of being haunted by Joe Meek. Somehow, I don't think his ghost would be a very reasonable one. If this gets to you Joe, I promise to spread the word about your wonderful exploits where-ever I go. If you like what you hear, then buy the album or make a space T-shirt of Joe swimming under a Globb Waterfall with Buddy Holly.

Noam Chomsky Lecture: "The War on Terror"

I went to the Noam Chomsky lecture for Amnesty International in the RDS last night. Professor Chomsky delivered a mind-numblingly rigorous lecture on the War on Terror and even deigned to comment on Economic and Political issues in this country. It was hugely enjoyable despite his single-minded anti-American stance and the easy ride he got from the crowd. I was certainly very happy to join the 1,500 others in at least one of the knicker-wetting standing ovations he recieved.

The lecture itself was delivered a little dryly. Other than an almost chest beating invitation, early in the lecture, to challenge him afterwards on any of the issues, he spoke without a hint of irony and there was no grandstanding or playing to the crowd. The main thrust of his argument was that it was necessary to conduct the War on Terror on the basis of a set of explicity defined rules, namely Facts, Moral Equality and Clarity. He then spent half an hour outlining how the US had consistantly subverted these objectives by distancing itself from moral accountability, suppressing dissent, vetoing International agreements and generally being two-faced bolloxes. He seemed to take some bookishly anal satisfaction in the statement and classification of his terms/definitions, which I suppose is in line with his less than user-friendly books.

The second half of the lecture focused on how the measures that the US and Britain ("America's Spearthrower") had taken to in the War on Terror had been exactly counter productive. Invading Iraq has massively increased the scope of terrorism and, interestingly, he pointed out the war has proven a superb training environment for future terrorists, with cells from all over the world being sent there on training exercises.

He also pointed out that since the breakup of US supported regimes in El Salvador and South Africa, there has been a huge displaced army of mercenaries that now have a wonderful employment opportunity. So the war in Iraq is being fought between foreign terrorist trainees and international mercenaries. In any case, the only unsuccessful war the US has engaged in was in Vietnam and the fundamental reason was that it was the only war that hadn't been fought by mercenaries. With regard to an exit plan, he said that the US will not pull out until it had control of the country's natural resources. Furthermore, the US have no real interest in fostering democracy, since the Shiite majority are sympathetic to Iran. An Iran-Iraq axis and cooperation with China would be the outcome.

He brightened during the Q & A session however and there were some interesting issues meated out. Asked whether military intervention was ever appropriate, he said that there were no instances where it has proved to be successful, before conceding that there were probably a few. Maybe India invading East Pakistan (halting colonial induced famine) or Vietnam invading Cambodia (halting a rampant Pol Pot), but certainly nothing that the US endorsed. When pushed, he conceded that the US intervention in Japan was probably worthwhile because the Japanese had proved themselves to be bad bastards (though he didn't use those words exactly).

He finished by pointing out that if there was to be a War on Terror then it needed to be cognisant of the grievances that motivated Islamic terrorism. The first obvious one is the Israel-Palestine conflict. The second was the US support for corrupt regimes in the Middle East. In the minds of the Islamic world, he said, this support for corrupt oil-focused and militant regimes amounts to a policy of actively suppressing economic development in those countries.

Aphex Twin ~ Rubber Johnny

Watch an absolutely unbelievable Aphex Twin video . If you are not a fan of Aphex Twin, this is not the place to start. In fact, avoid this like the plague. It's impossible that Richard D. James is not in league with the devil.

Evidence We're Evolving

1. Smoother Movement

I first noticed this genetic improvement while walking through a Christmas shopping crowded Dun Laoghaire main street over the festive season. At first I was not entirely sure of what I saw; a few children zipped past me but it didn't fully register that I had entered a new environment. As I looked up, there were scores of celestial children, zig-zagging serenely through the crowds, each maintaining a perfectly straight poise, with hands on hips and front foot at a rakish 45 degree angle to the other. They seemed completely oblivious to the groups of hunched parents, who with knitted, protruding foreheads and waddling gait distinguished themselves as supremely inferior in terms of selective fitness. Adapt now, get yourself a pair of roller shoes before you are relegated to the primordial soup!

2. Efficient Use of Digits

I was astonished, yesterday, to witness three people in front of me in the queue for the banklink using their thumbs to input bank details. It seems that the use of mobiles and ipods has led to an irreversible change in the way we use our hands. I have to say that the line moved very quickly and there was the added bonus of witnessing extremely camp expressions on the patron's faces as they furiously tried to input their information as quickly as possible. I was half-expecting them to wait around to see what the others would get. "Yes! 34 seconds, thot's a fockin' PB Fintan!"

Indie Mixtape

I put up a mixtape of great Indie stuff I was listening to last year. I found an efficient way of uploading these so I'll probably be doing it a bit more. I'm going to put up mixtapes of my favourite head-the-balls, but in the spirit of creating a few new genres along the lines of the gay frontier mixtape, I'll put together a few themed ones as well (I can see Robert Wyatt, Vic Chesnutt and I Hope You're Sitting Down by Lambchop fitting onto a Wheelchair Folk mixtape). No theme on this mixtape, just lovely pop melodies:

1. Grass ~ Animal Collective
2. Fake Palindromes ~ Andrew Bird
3. I'm Getting Back Into Getting Back Into You ~ Silver Jews
4. Another Sunny Day ~ Belle & Sebastian
5. Wrong Time Capsule ~ Deerhoof
6. Did I Say ~ Teenage Fanclub
7. I Need Some Sleep ~ Eels
8. Your Woman ~ Whitetown
9. Jesus, etc... ~ Wilco
10. Someone, Somewhere ~ Luke Temple
11. Lucy ~ Shane McGowan & Nick Cave
12. Take Ecstasy With Me ~ Magnetic Fields

Broke Back Mountin' Mixtape

A mixtape of Frontier Music for you. To download it, follow the Mixtape link and enter in the username and password I sent around. If you want these details then email me at eoinglsn@yahoo.com. I've tried to put off doing any recreational reading until I've submitted my thesis, but I'm weak, so I sat down to read All The Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy last night and got completely caught up in the frontier atmosphere; its an incredible read. I'm bursting with enthusiasm for the Wild West this morning and have decided to adopt a limp for the duration of Christmas. The mixtape is also in celebration of the most wonderfully named film to emerge in years, the gay cowboy movie Brokeback Mountain. Surely this constitutes the easiest job for the guy who names gay porn ripoffs of famous movies since Lord of The Rings.

The Man With The Harmonica ~ Ennio Morricone
This is taken from Sergio Leone's Once Upon A Time In The West, my favourite Western by a long shot.



Far From Any Road ~ The Handsome Family
A gothic tale set to frontier music by the very Handsome Family.




The Fevered Dream of Hernando DeSoto ~Pere Ubu
A demented trucker races across America, repeating the phrase "Not Fade Away" in his head. Hunter S. Thompsonesque quantities of chemicals almost certainly involved. Album sleeve is pretty interesting too.


Cocaine Blues ~ Johnny Cash
A hint of a gay subtext here. Nothing homosexual in the delivery; just that it was recorded in a prison and I still have the phrase "You Can Toss My Salad" scarred on my brain from a Chris Rock show I saw on TV recently.


God Was Drunk When He Made Me ~ Jim White
A gay country anthem? Contains the line: "Who built the house of brotherly love and let the devil come dancing in?". A contender surely.



Knoxville Girl ~ Nick Cave
Another less than tender murder ballad by Nick Cave from this year's B-Sides and Rarities album. I know it's not on Let Love In but this is the only camp picture of Nick Cave that exists.


Over Your Shoulder ~ Calexico
Wonderfully ominous frontier guitar ballad.





Borne On The Wind ~ Roy Orbison
Roy Orbison could do anything.




Two Characters In Search of A Country Song ~ Magnetic Fields
My favourite country song. One of only two artists who's actually gay on this mix. Yes, you've guessed it...Johnny Cash.



Spider and I ~ Brian Eno
Not exactly country, but seems suited to this list. A torch song for male companionship on long journeys. I don't need to say anymore.



The Future ~ Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen tells us that we're all going to hell. "Give me crack and anal sex, take the only tree that's left and stick it up the hole in your culture". Ouch.