Archive for the ‘Blah blah’ Category
There’s the billboard poster just around the corner for some theatre thing. Two big faces and some words. But every time I walk by that poster, I can’t help but wonder why Pat Butcher is performing in Mexico.
A couple of infographics today. First, one looking at the time travelling done by Bill and Ted in their Excellent Adventure. And the other one is only really of interest to me and my ego. It looks at the results of searching my name in Google Images. There are more famous Craig Robinsons than me.
Vivica A. Fox
Susan B. Anthony
George C. Scott
John D. Rockerfeller
Mark E. Smith
John F. Kennedy
Warren G. Harding
William H. Macy
Mary J. Blige
Philip K. Dick
Samuel L. Jackson
Charles M. Schulz
David O. Russell
Huey P. Newton
Robert Q Lewis
Edward R. Murrow
Hunter S. Thompson
Booker T. Washington
George W. Bush
David X. Cohen
So, we’re missing I., N., U., V., Y., and Z.
Can you help?
Special for the World Cup: Mexican-flag-coloured Tic Tacs! The green ones are apple flavour, the red ones are cherry flavour, and the white ones are orange flavour which doesn’t make sense, but I can appreciate that mint would be kinda grim when mixed with apple and cherry.
I am, though, wondering if Tic Tac is doing this in every country? Are there black, red, and yellow Tic Tacs in Germany?
She sells sea shells on the seashore
But she didn’t sell many coz you can just pick ‘em up for free.
You had blonde hair
But the pigeons that walk around your memorial don’t care
That you died in a car in Paris
I’ve been saving this blog post. I wrote it today. But I’ve been saving writing it. I had this idea, you see, to write a blog post, but really late. And see how much I could write about something I did without it being fresh in my mind. It was something I thought about doing maybe a couple of months after the event, but it’s been over two years. I went to Africam Safari on the 29th day of April, 2012. I went there with an ex-girlfriend, but that’s incidental. I’m not going to mention her by name or anything, but I might use the first person plural. Just so you know, really, that I’m not using the royal we. (Here, though, I would like to plant an image in your head: Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Charles playing bowling on the Wii.) So, yes, it’s an experiment. I’ve inserted photographs, but I didn’t look at them before writing, cos that’d kinda defeat the object of trying to remember stuff, so I looked at them and picked a few and inserted them after doing the whole type-y typing thing.
Africam Safari is, as the name telegraphs, a safari park. It also hints at the presence of African animals, doesn’t it? But, and this is the one part of the blog that I had written down in the Notes app on my iPod as a reminder to blog about it: Africam Safari is the worst place in the world.
Now, of course, that’s not strictly true. Although, “worst” is a subjective word, just as “best” is when saying “Justin Bieber is the best thing ever.” And while we were at the Africam Safari, I wrote in the Notes app on my iPod, “Africam Safari is the worst place in the world.”
We’d gone to Puebla for the weekend. Puebla is a town not too far from Mexico City. It’s quite nice. I’ve been several times. That trip was based around my desire to see my favourite Mexican baseball team, Diablos Rojos, playing against the Puebla team, the Pericos. We saw two games. And on our third and final day in the city, decided to get a bus to Africam Safari, which is about 15 km southeast of the city.
I don’t remember a huge amount about the journey. Just that there was a VW Golf on the side of the road covered in hats. I remember that because I took a photo of it. And that the pedestrian crossing near the entrance to Africam Safari was done like a yellow-on-black zebra pattern.
There was a greenhouse thingy with lizards, spiders, and butterflies, but the main thing was that you could drive around and see the animals up close. Lots of people were doing that in their cars, but we took the small bus. We sat at the back, looking through the dirty windows at magnificent, bored animals. It was hot and dusty in there. There were patterns, like logos and stuff, on the windows. What is the point of that? I have a problem with buses having decals on windows anyway. Nobody takes a bus because it’s their first choice. People take buses out of financial necessity for the most part. Why make that journey crappy by making their eyes go funny when are looking at things outside but they’ve got a dotty pattern that they have to look through and inadvertently keep focussing on? It seems even more stupid when the entire point of the bus, (that is, the bus at Africam Safari) is to allow punters to see things that are outside.
We moved slowly around the snaking roads. Passing zebras, parrots, gazelles, rhinos, elephants, ostriches (or maybe they were emus, I can’t remember), boars, and those cows with the really point horns that look like ice cream cones. It was like being in a traffic jam. Just with extra tigers.
Halfway around, we were instructed to get out. The tour guide fella dressed it up as a drink/snack/toilet break, but really it was just so that we’d spend some time and money in the souvenir shop. A souvenir shop that had some dodgy dolls that, in a safari park in Mexico, could quite easily be taken as a bit racist. We bought ice creams.
Even though I know in my heart that zoos are kinda wrong, I still enjoy being at zoos. But not Africam Safari. That place was shit. I was in a right grumpy mood by the time we left.
I can’t remember much more than that, really. Which is disappointing. As you were.
Every shiny iPhone ad
Flat-screen TV, empty road/new car
Cute kids cuter wife
Life isn’t like that
My insoles crinkle when I put my shoes on
Dust bunnies gather between looped cables
Finger smudges on the screen
The edge of a dictionary brown from dirty hands
I bought you a muffin
Then you texted to say it’s over
So I ate the muffin
On 28th February, at about four o’clock in the morning, I got home from an evening of boozing. Boozing on my own. I’d been a bit stressed with work, and kinda needed to totally forget about the fact that the long day I’d just had would be followed by another long stress-y day. In bed, I typed the following into the notes app on my iPod. Sufficient time has elapsed now, and I don’t really feel as embarrassed by it as I did back then. And it’s interesting (for me) to have a document that clearly reminds me of what I am like when I’m in a thinky mood and full of booze. So here you go. The footnotes were written today.
After an amount of whisky, six-ish beers, and some, not quite sure how many, mezcales, I was walking home (not really in a straight line), and I heard these words come out of my mouth: “I want to be drunk forever.” And I kinda really meant it.* Then I, regrettably, bought a cigarette from some dude on the street.† Then I saw a man walking his dogs and really wanted to stop, say hello, stroke his dogs, cos dogs are ace. But I didn’t, cos I knew I was drunk. Then I went for tacos (sorry, pigs‡) and drank more beer. (Bob fucking Marley playing on the telly in the taqueria, and they had a power cut while I was there, too. That was fun. More fun than “don’t worry about a thing cos every little thing gonna be alright.”) Then I listened to songs that I really like on my iPod (Some Kind of Bliss by Kylie Minogue, Municipality by Real Estate, a bunch of Richard Hawley stuff). Then I felt bad about life. Then I got back to my shitty hotel room.§ Then I felt my balls to make sure I don’t have cancer. Then I posted–that is, now am posting–this on Facebook, for some reason.¶ Love you stroke damn you Zuckerberg for making this the place where one feels in touch with one’s friends. Then I realised that being a random drunk person isn’t the same as being Dylan Thomas. Then I got into bed. Buenas noches. Then I thought, aah, it’s still funny that Man U are so shit this season.# Then I woke up the next morning and deleted this post.** Enjoy, fuckers.
* It’s a nice drunkness to be, I think, when it just feels like you are totally normal in your head.
† I’d given up smoking in late November 2013. It was all going well. Then I had one when I was drinking. And the next few times I went out, I’d have just one. And those just ones became more than just one. I’m back smoking again now, frustratingly, cos I’d got through two months and it felt good.
‡ I stopped eating meat last September.
§ During February and March, I lived in a hotel while my girlfriend and I were looking for a flat.
¶ I did actually do that on my Facebook page. I have two: a private one and a Flip Flop Flying one. If by any chance you feel the desire to add me as a friend on my private page, don’t be offended when I don’t add you back: it’s the only place on the Internet where I keep things that I just want my friends and not the general public to know.
# Still funny.
** I did exactly that.
My mate’s house in Barnet has white exterior walls. At the perfect time of night, when the street lights are on, but it’s not quite totally dark, the wall is pink and shadows are a lovely lovely blue.
Across the street is a supermarket. Handy. Very handy. Forgot to buy butter? No need to even bother putting shoes and socks on: I nip over in my flip flops. The supermarket is a Mexican supermarket called Superama. It’s now owned by Walmart which does smart a bit every time I go in there. Anyway, the other morning, I was stood on the balcony, glazed eyes just staring out over the top of the supermarket at the sky. Evntually, I focussed on the illuminated Superama sign. And then I got to thinking about Bananarama. And David Gedge’s other band, Cinerama. And then I started thinking of as many words as I could that ended in -orama: diorama, panorama… That’s all I could come up with, to be honest.
But it did get me wanting to find out about the origin of the -rama ending. A wee google and I was on the Wiktionary page for panorama. Apparently the word is from ancient Greek: pan (“all”) and horama (“that which is seen”).
So I guess Superama means “the stuff you see in our shop is super.” And Bananarama means “look at all the fucking narners.”
Anyway, here’s a photograph of the supermarket. It’s the view from my balcony. It was taken about a month ago. All of the stalls and people on the street are due to fact that next to the supermarket is a football stadium, Estadio Azul, home of Cruz Azul which, handily, is my favourite Mexican team. You can see the stadium, it’s the blue and white thing. Beyond that, you can see the upper parts (the red bits) of the bullfighting place, which is the largest bullfighting place in the world.
A 43 year old British man was found dead in his apartment in Mexico City today. It is believed he laughed himself to death after arranging a Pink Panther toy to look like he was cradling a big pink cock with his arms.
Fifteen years ago today, I got home from working at a record distribution company and as I’d done quite a bit in the previous six months, sat down in front of my (first generation) iMac. After a couple of months of reading a book about HTML and drawing stuff in ClarisWorks, and animating stuff in GifBuilder, I was ready to put my Web site online. I’d chosen the name Flip Flop Flyin’ (from a Beach Boys song), I had a Virgin account which came with a wee bit of Web space, and thus – hurrah! – I put the stuff online. That Web site was live! Live at http://freespace.virgin.net/craig.robinson1. Snappy URL. And then I emailed some friends to say, hey, go look at my stuff. Please. And a few of them did. And after a couple of months, people I didn’t know started looking at the site. And then more of them. Then I started drawing small pixellated popstars. The Beatles, Beach Boys, Blondie, Kraftwerk. And I kept on doing them. The more I did, the more people started looking at them. My Web site was a little bit popular.
Back on the 12th of May, 1999, the site had hardly any content. But it did have a splash page. A splash page for each section, in fact. Splash pages were a thing back then. And it had a clunky navigation system.
It’s interesting (for me, anyway) to look back at the work I’ve done here in the past decade-and-a-half. I’m way better at drawing now. But I have less patience for animation. Last night, I watched the Pete & Bob series that I did between 2002 and 2006. It seems to be a perfect example of everything I’ve done and still do. It’s a bit silly and a bit melancholy. For anyone else looking at 15 years worth of drawings and stuff, it must just seem like a fairly large amount of content. For me, it looks like a diary. Looking at the stuff totally takes me back to where I was, who I was, and who I was with at those points in my life. I can see the points where I was happy, and the points where I was really miserable.
I can’t really say that I’d want it any different. A few tweaks here and there. Fewer wilful destructions of popular things. Stopping doing Minipops, for example, was entirely about being contrary. This is popular: kill it! I think the biggest regret, though, of all is the way this blog has developed. It was going swimmingly in 2006, then I posted something about my dislike of a popular British artist. It got a load of comments. A lot of them assumed it was just professional jealousy. (It wasn’t. Banksy was and continues to be a shit artist.) That post soured me a bit. And after a couple of months of only posting sporadically, it took a while to build it up again. Things were going great when I was doing my travelling around the Americas in 2008. That was when my blogging was actually quite good. I was writing long posts virtually every day. It kept on going well until the middle of 2009 when my then-wife and I split up and, well, there was a horrible time when I was on a train between Portland and Seattle, and got to my friend’s house and saw that there were 50-odd comments on a post I’d written about that split. It wasn’t pleasant. That experience, without really making a conscious decision about it, soured me to the whole idea of writing about my life. The blog slowly got less personal. Then I had another “I don’t wanna do this anymore” mid-2010. Sporadic posts again, mostly just promoting other stuff I’d done. That seemed to be the final nail in the coffin of it being an active blog, where there’d be comments on every post. Since then, and to this day, I’ve neglected the blog. I put up drawings, write the occasional thing, but it’s being kept alive purely out of habit. Twitter and the Facebook page have also made the blog less important for letting people know about new things. I regret this. And right now, it feels like it’d be a shame to throw it all away just because Twitter and Facebook are easier.
Looking again, as I did yesterday, at a ton of my old work, I’m kinda proud of what I’ve done. And I want to keep doing it. And that includes blogging more. I used to enjoy it so much, and I want to enjoy it again. And after looking at the Pete & Bob stuff, I want to get more fun stuff going, too. It’s possibly a coincidence, but the stuff that happened in the middle of 2009 was at the same time as I started really doing a lot of baseball-related infographics. I wonder if infographics were just a way for me to keep doing stuff, having ideas, but without having to put any heart into it. Statistics don’t hurt you or make you think about how your life is going. Right now, I’m a wee bit bored of doing infographics. I’ve done some really good stuff at Flip Flop Fly Ball, the baseball offshoot of Flip Flop Flyin’, and I’d like to keep doing it. But really, it’s time to get back to doing more of the stuff that I love the most. Arty silly stuff. So fingers crossed I can keep all of this in mind.
I had an email recently from a woman called Emily. She said that she and her brother “absolutely loved Flip Flop Flyin’ when [they] were kids.” It was genuinely heartwarming to get an email like that. It’s very nice to think that people like what you do.
Anyway, thanks for reading. And should you fancy looking at what Flip Flop Flyin’ looked like fifteen years ago, here’s that first version of Flip Flop Flyin’.
Also of note, the incredible Saul Steinberg died on the 12th of May 1999. One can only dream of being as good as him.
If you’re going to San Francisco, is it still a visa requirement to wear flowers in your hair?
It’s good that a print shop (in Walthamstow, London) lets you know up front that they will put apostrophes where apostrophes don’t belong.
Kids these days! They don’t know they’re born. Or that their mum’s milk is used to make the cheese in my salad.
They say other peoples’ dreams are boring. But I would also suggest that they are also boring. Saying other peoples’ dreams are boring is boring. Not sure that entirely means we’ve come around to dreams being interesting again, but, well, er, this post is about a dream I had a while back.
I’d read a story on a news Web site about the Queen (that is, the Queen, Queen Elizabeth II) running out of money or something. Boo hoo. And I ended up dreaming about that and the way the BBC is always getting shit from the Daily fucking Mail about anything they feel they can stick the boot in about. So in the dream, the Queen was given a chat show on BBC One, to, y’know, earn her keep. In my dream, she was interviewing famous British people. And the first interview was with Robert Smith. Him out of the Cure.
Here’s a drawing.