We do not go to church and are not religious in what we refer to as "the conventional sense." We do believe in a "higher power" and in a transcendent morality and we love to see the sun shining through stained glass windows. We love beautiful old rhyme but prefer to spend Sunday morning in bed, or with our eyes upon the newspaper.
We approve of the Elizabethan concept of immutability, but it does not run in the blood. Life is not nasty, brutish and short. We are intrepid in opinions we have heard and which can be backed up by at least two separate arguments. We often argue that religion is dangerous or bad, so we rely on journalists to bring order to the lack of cause or consequence in the world.
We are of the sprint and not the marathon. Tremendous excitement is what we mean by joy and when we sit down to our dinner, or to watch our television, we fully expect to be there 25 years later. When forced to choose we panic and settle on the immediate material, and although God is off the radar, we still secretly require something to lend authority to our morals.
To be published with The Combined Technical Jargon of Bev
These are all words and phrases which we have picked up from researches into the Scottish Aberdonian way of speaking and living. We are three American students from New York who are in Scotland because of the unique words which they use here, and the Congy Ben Website has let us publish what we have collected so far.
We hope that you enjoy the words, and that you send us more if you hear any while you are in Aberdeen!
This is Downcome, a font designed by Eduardo Recife. In the spirit of the age and in line with other open source software, Eduardo Recife allows anybody to use his font, and all he asks is that he be acknowledged. As a bonus, if anyone can be bothered, Eduardo asks politely to be gifted any books, CDs etc that may make use of his font. That is the idea, but the practice is sadly lacking.
I submitted the title for my thesis to the department, offering them a work-proposed as, "Marcion Was Right". When I was called to the Dean's office, he told me that there would have be some major changes.
"It's not so much the sentiment," he said, "rather the brevity of the title is the complicating factor. Such a straightforwardly theological perspective, would really have to be out into more words than just those three."
As it happened, there was no appetite for my work, and a severe lack of funding. I returned to church but they had heard what I had done and stared me out for my boldness.
To say that language in art and letters have been stunted is very true. It’s not that there’s a lack of eyes to look at pictures, and not that there’s a surfeit of people talking about them, or people reading books, but there is now a self-consciousness which demands improvement on a weekly basis.
When in conversation, one notes that one must say not simply what one feels, but what one considers to be brighter than what has come before. It’s a constant fight out there. A competition is raging, and it’s adjudicated by people who think the brain is for the rational snapping of the jaw, and that ideas are for dissection. The fact is that speech is the ideal that shows us what we are.
All of this, I became skilful at avoiding, but only through the indulgent twisting up of words — I called it my writing! Liska was naturally never a part of it. She couldn’t have taken a part if she had wanted to, she could never produce any of that verbal twat that makes our civilisation as arid as it is.
Liska’s work defied criticism because she defied viewers. Artistically, she and I are the end of the process. We are both speculators, and we both lack ideas. In our work, there are no concepts, just as there is nothing high and nothing guarded. She paints and I write, and these are the ends in themselves. It is as if we couldn’t be bothered with anything, else, any of the shit and smack of the media, of sales, of having websites, twitter feeds, anything that made us a part of that grand, public popularity contest ....
The Range of the Awful Hand is a range of hills in the Southern Uplands of Scotland, so called due to their resemblance to the fingers of a hand...
It's also the name of a band from Edinburgh, two members of which were formerly in Gilded Lil (check this Gilded Lil playlist if in any doubt as to the genius of that bunch.)
Download recent stuff from The Range of the Awful Hand here.
Marcel Duchamp appears as a signatory to the First Papers of Surrealism, although he wasn't in his day and certainly isn't today, officially aligned with the movement. It's tough; nobody works in a vacuum, and associations are only natural. And of all the movements of his day, Duchamp may have been drawn to Dada and Surrealism, although he was alwasy going his own way . . .
The document (I love 'Explorers of the Pluriverse') includes many who wouldn't now be necessarily thought of as surrealists, such as Edward Lear, and Marc Chagall. But what's typically splendid about Duchamp's input is that whereas Andre Breton is the curator 'hanging' this printed exhibition, Duchamp is deliciously described as 'his twine'.
A full scan is available at First Papers of Surrealism.
Dear Fellow English Speaker,
An ominous spectre has arisen over the sunlit valleys and mountains of SCOCHIA. This week's decision by the Scots Parliament to promote the speaking of "Scotch" through the indoctrination of children in public schools is but one more tyrannical step to the eradication of the biblical norm of heterosexual relationships and English speaking family life, centred around beef and good detective fiction.
The radical Scotch lobby, under the guise of egalitarian blather, seeks domination over all competing value systems which deem their morally anarchic behaviour repulsive, reprehensible, and beyond the cope of normative and wholesome deportment. Scotch Governor and Spaverman Stovies Duffus MSP, a leading activist for the bill, is eager to sign the same into law. With the stroke of his pen, the heavy hand of Stovies Duffus will attempt to win converts to, and propagate the mission of perversion by introducing the raddled Scotch into the queen's pure tongue, and by doing it HARD.
Falling asleep, and cortical vigilance doesn't fall at a uniform rate, it shifts up and down, tending to becoming lower in steps. Alpha rhythms rise in bursts but less often and with longer periods of slow waves, and little by little ideas escape us. In intervals we return to attention realising that we've just had some weird thoughts about something that weren't even related to the thoughts previous to them, and we feel we are talking inwardly to ourselves and that we've just said something that doesn't make sense, or is a made up word or phrase. The voice is accompanied by an equally unfamiliar but striking display of visual imagination. Faces are common, sometimes moving. Abstract forms, patterns, nature scenes, becoming more complex, until they are brought to an abrupt end . . .
Some may search this, while others may re-earth this thing called consternation in the net-book of mental pages where there are displayed two stages of rage like stage one : I am introduced to sway as a young fry one day then stage two I'm getting it the hell out of me YEA I put that shit on hold : "I must welcome you to this website and bring to you an announcement of intergalactic importance .... ladies and gentleman I'm the Voice of ConBy explosive specialist Panatenda Stacks the treacherous millenial expedition chief administrator of Perpetual Freedom, and I will f**uck you executives consecutively, I will test your chests out like trampolines YEA I will make the sky roll back like I'll make it all fold four fold and f**uck the dumb shit out of you, so you may not need to get smashed in a car crash quick or beaten with a half-eaten deadbeat chicken drumstick cause Peter Burnett summoned me to photocopy your entity and carol your dying ditty where hope draws up, you will not outlast him in specious buildings, and nor can you obscure a part of yourself in illiquid earnings, hear ye hear ye obliquities of hateful ways, and Peter's maniples are fired away so hereof let your study be as clear as shit, and ken that I wrote this ruled by Mr Hit. He is my dealer . . . . of course!!"
Notes Copied from the Records of The Beggar's Benison
For which see Male Sex Clubs of the Enlightenment in Scotland
The Minutes of The Beggar’s Benison
1734 Candlemas: 13 Knights present. Chamber tyled at 3 o'clock, and opened in due manner. One Feminine Gender, 17, was hired for One Sovereign, fat and well-developed. She stripped in the Closet, nude; and was allowed to come in with face half-covered. None was permitted to speak to or touch her. She spread wide upon a Seat, first before and then behind: every Knight passed in turn and surveyed the Secrets of Nature. Afterwards the Sovereign closed the Chambers, after Repast in the accustomed form. Secresy enjoined upon faith.
I GOT THIS LETTER, I THINK IT MAY BE SPAM: Someone said that they had seen you coming out of a 'Christian Bookshop, whatever that is, and that Christianity is a kind of God-thingy.
Which is perfect. So this is in the way of being an offer of a contract for the a series, provisionally entitled EASTEROGEN! that we are starting up.
This year’s conference will follow this agenda:
Registration - on arrival please make your way to the Strathchunty hall where you will need to check in at the registration desks. Our conference team will be there to provide you with conference clothing.
Coffee - Move to the Fixed Mercury room for coffee and miniature Danish pastries.
Seminar - The Frippery of the Elves Revealed. A presentation by the court of the Elf King.
Coffee Interval - During coffee in the Killy Lounge, the elves will be on hand to answer general questions.
This snippet concerns the origins of the Aikey Fair, or Aikey Brae Fair.
But on the event of the first Aikey fair, which must have been in the early 1800s, the tinker lady who brought her wares dropped them while crossing the Ugie, and laid them out on the grass to dry, thus offering the locals a chance to browse them. This led to the development of the fair as a venue for people to purchase trinkets, baskets, pegs and tinwares.