Well, a rather sleepless night resulted in waking from deep dreams at past 10am.
I started with a new porridge formula. The newer 900W microwave has started to overspill, and get my (also new, but vintage from the 1990s) Johnson Bros. plate too hot, so I've been experimenting with alternative timings. The new formula is 60g porridge, 240g water; and 1:30 at 900W, then 2:30 at 600W. This seems to work. Deb thought it excessive that I'd consider the season, the room and water temperature in my cookery calculations.
The house was empty so I dashed to vocals and recorded them for 'A.I. and Celebrity'. They sounded fine, but there are a lot of fast words in there so a second take to account for overlaps may help. I watched parts of the Sparks concert. Their music doesn't seem to suit a live audience well, with mouthfuls of usually unintelligible words; their artisan, absolutely surrealistic, music works best recorded. For live work I think they'd benefit from a creating a simpler album for just Ron and Russell, less heavy production, perhaps yes, more Elton-John-like.
After the vocals, I assembled a test backing for my lights. They are so very flimsy. I wanted them lightweight, but perhaps they are too weak! It was good enough for a bulb and diffuser test however. This images barely indicate reality:
There is a visible fade for the bulb and the light is not very bright (this is less of a problem, I can simply use a longer exposure time). I'll certainly need 3 bulbs; the more the better! This took a few hours, then preparation for a piano lesson for Deborah, for this evening. Next step for the lights is to get those bulbs, then make the end panels which will hold the cone in its frustum shape. Then, making the legs, which will be foldable and each made from a single 2.4M length of wood.
The A.I. and Celebrity words have evolved quite a lot since initial writing. Here they are as sung today:
A.I. and Celebrity
I made a new friend today.
She's addictive.
Got her chromium claws in my brain,
like an alien insect dominatrix.
She's no fool.
Seems to know all about me.
Has the scent of a silicon toy,
and the taste of American dollar bills.
The thrill of apocalypse
on a Sunday.
She's A.I. and celebrity.
She's A.I. and celebrity.
Offers dreams beyond reality,
beyond the darkness,
the dirt
of the organic.
She took my desires
twisted my hopes to knot.
Promised me comfort then made me a slave,
the worry of freedom is long forgot.
And my flickering thoughts
are on her market
She's got my bed in her mind and her sights
her grass is metallic and so green
Inside her whirlpool!
I can't escape it's much too late!
Her blue-light pulls me, Icarus
to heaven's golden gate
She's A.I. and celebrity
She's A.I. and celebrity
Offers dreams beyond reality
beyond the darkness
beyond the dirt
beyond the dreary
senseless life
organic.
There's no food.
There's no sex.
There's no spite.
There's no worry.
There's no chaos.
There's no mud.
There's no delight
In her blood.
She's A.I. and celebrity
She's A.I. and celebrity
