allmyfriendsarejpegs.

Man Date III - Back with a Vengeance Eh, guys from Kirkie in suits?! This can mean only one...

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 15:13:54 +0000

Man Date III - Back with a Vengeance

Eh, guys from Kirkie in suits?! This can mean only one thing… Man Date is back.

Essentially, a gathering of our local hoodlums (err, friends) meet up, head into the big city after drinking a fair amount, have dinner, then drink some more… all whilst suited up. What could possibly go wrong with that?

This was my first Man Date experience, and I’m not bitter about the lack of invitations to previous outings at all. No sirreeee. It’s amazing how moving twenty minutes up the road puts you out of mind as well as out of sight. It’s just as well I’m a stubborn bastard and force my way back into people’s lives when they least want or expect it.

I can’t do anything about looking like an overweight Chinaman at times mind you.

Hmm…

It’s also worth pointing out that despite any uncanny resemblance that it may have, I am definitely not wearing a Rangers tie.

anyway. at least Robbie was enjoying himself.

and you can’t have a night out without Keith.

and a shot of Action Man before it all got too much and he had to go home. (haw haw haw)

Despite looking worse for wear here, Pazy was actually on top form. He later told me that he liked when I came out, because I was ‘a good drinker’.

Aww shucks.

I’m not sure that’s something I’ll be putting on my CV, but all the same.

I’m not sure how or why Suede ended up with two white russians.

When you work in clubs your social life melts into the pot, and it becomes quite hard to separate the whole sticky mix. I hardly ever go out anymore unless it’s work related because it… feels like work. One of the few times I’m able to actually go to a party or club or anything else and just go along with things is when I’m out with folk that I’ve known the longest. Will need to make sure I continue to force my way in.

This is Molly. She came to Couchsurf last week. I’ve not had anybody stay in ageees, and I...

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 00:29:00 +0000

This is Molly. She came to Couchsurf last week. I’ve not had anybody stay in ageees, and I probably won’t be having too many for a while given the amount of stuff that I’ve got on, but I like to keep my eye on the ‘emergency’ couchsurfing group to lend a hand to people that are stuck for somewhere to stay last minute.

Being off work is pretty strange. Undeniably I’ve been able to sit and concentrate on doing my dissertation, and I’m plowing ahead. Being able to actually let your brain sit in the one frame of mind and concentrate on something without having to drastically shift gear every few days to go work in a club, or in an office is unbelievably helpful. Living more than one life in the time you have to live a single one means you can never quite give 100% to anything that requires a bit of focus.

Saying that, I continue to be amazed by the sheer volume of ‘photographers’ that are doing work for £20 a night in nightclubs. I hate to bang on about it, but it really does astound me. Is the lure of the lifestyle really that strong that people are prepared to work for pennies? Maybe I’m just jaded after doing this for so long, but I don’t see how anybody can class themselves as a ‘professional’ (and boy are they proud of that fact), whilst charging the equivalent of two cinema tickets.

I could repeat all the stuff about having to pay for insurance, and the time spent post-processing, and the experience, and the fact that it’s not sustainable after more than a year or so at that cost, but in all honesty, I’m not sure how long I can compete with people who charge about a third less than I do. It could well mean I end up having to hang up my camera.

We’ll see.

WHAT I DO

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 18:24:25 +0000

WHAT I DO

Despite having a loan of somebody else’s Macbook, it’s not quite the same as having my...

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 21:40:36 +0000

Despite having a loan of somebody else’s Macbook, it’s not quite the same as having my own setup. Given that mine is currently in a pile of plastic parts and screws (God knows how they all fit back together), that’s not really an option. However, I’ve ripped out the hard-disk and managed to boot up from the OS into something resembling my own config, so taking the opportunity to update some pictures!

This is Christy. She’s cool.

In amongst all of the pressure that is being exerted, it was a rather welcome break to see some good friends.

We did consume a fair few bottles of whisky between us. John’s philosophy was… “well, we’ve finished one bottle, so we may as well finish another one.” and “once a bottle’s open, we need to drink it dry.”

Good philosophy.

Hello. Updates are going to be scant on here for a bit. After things being incredibly full on for a...

Sat, 11 Feb 2012 01:11:22 +0000

Hello.

Updates are going to be scant on here for a bit. After things being incredibly full on for a while, I’m having to take a bit of a step back from life before I wind up dead before the beginning of summer.

On a more practical side, the motherboard on my beloved Macbook of five years has gone and given up the ghost. As one may expect, to get this repaired through Apple would cost close to £400. Instead of shelling out such a sum, I’ve picked up a replacement part from eBay for £160, and have the Mac disassembled and waiting. Sadly it might be a week or so before it’s back in action, as the new board is coming from the States.

See you soon!

Birmingham - 35mm black and white I finally got my finger out, replaced a broken thermometer and...

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 23:16:09 +0000

Birmingham - 35mm black and white

I finally got my finger out, replaced a broken thermometer and developed a few black and white films that had been sitting gathering dust for a while. (Absolutely nothing to do with putting off writing my disseration, for the record.)

Turns out that one of the films was from when I went down to Birmingham for a few days back in January last year (2011), which I had initially thought had been lost and confined to history, and then later totally forgotten about.

This is Biduu and Ian, who I Couchsurfed with for the first night, and who took us to a crazy party at the top of some fancy hotel the next day.

Personally, I thought that this was an example of marketing at its finest.

This is my good pal Toby, who I met whilst on tour with the band Hold Your Horse Is for the first time. (whenever that was…). Bizarrely, he emailed me out of the blue just as I was scanning in these pictures. Maybe it was karmic energy, or something.

Either way, he is one of the coolest dudes around, and let me sit up ridiculously late in his flat before helping me find the Megabus stop. The journey back home was horrific, but he can’t take the blame for that.

Here’s Biduu having a swatch at the old Canon 7 with the 50mm f0.95 lens that I had for a while.

It truly was a thing of beauty, I often wonder whether or not I did the right thing in flogging it, and then I remember that it paid for my trip to Colorado back in September and all doubts go out my mind. I’d give up a camera for time spent with amazing people any day. What’s the point in being able to document moments in your life if you never have any?

We had beans on toast this night, as it’s all the money we had left in the world. Toby later revealed that that’s all he’d been eating for weeks.

This is Ben. He is definitely one of a kind. His life was a myriad of insane contradictions that you couldn’t make sound believable even in a fictional novel. He is ridiculously camp, was on some obscure TV programme about knitting, couldn’t cook, and turned up to that party we went to wearing a devil mask.

You can’t help but love him.

Hannah. The reason I went to Birmingham, and one of my oldest and dearest friends. This picture doesn’t really do her justice, but since it’s the only one, it has to be included.

For those of you that are interested in that sort of thing, these were shot on (what I think was) a Leica iiia with a Jupiter-3 f1.5 lens. Oh, and some pretty badly expired Fuji Neopan 1600.

Every so often Toby gets these moments of insanity that interrupt his usual calm demeanour, and a sort of crazed look takes over. I love this shot, as it sums those times up pretty well.

50 - Murder Mystery Continuing on with the celebrations for my dad’s 50th (which he claims...

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 03:01:03 +0000

50 - Murder Mystery

Continuing on with the celebrations for my dad’s 50th (which he claims have to last the full month), a pile of us gathered at the house back in Kirkie for a gangland themed night.

With all of the cigars and cocktails kicking about, it was almost like being back in New Orleans.

Ever since I was wee and read a book on Al Capone, I’ve had a soft-spot for the whole 1920s gangster culture. You can’t help but admire the guy that flooded the streets of Chicago with booze during the height of prohibition, even if he was a big criminal.

Some of the stories about Capone are pretty incredible.

What finally caught him out wasn’t any of the sex, drink or death that he was linked to, but tax fraud. (let that be a lesson kids!)

He was told to keep a low profile at the trials which eventually saw him incarcerated in the infamous Alcatraz prison. This was to help avoid coming across as a rich, smug criminal. True to Capone style though, he turned up every day in a different brightly coloured suit… banana yellow one day, lime green the next.

I wish I had suits like that.

The surprise of the evening involved a murder mystery game, of which a few of us where characters in.

Perhaps inevitably, I was given the role of the murderer. Probably not the best choice since people were automatically suspicious of me simply because it was me, and not based on any of the clues.

It took a few minutes (and many glasses of wine), but by the end of the night I had convinced even myself that I really was the killer.

Like my red tie?

The thing about what I wore is that if I walked in the house on my own looking like that, people wouldn’t bat an eyelid; they’d just think I’d made an effort to dress a bit smarter.

I do love a pork pie hat.

If I could be bothered with the effort, I’d dress like this all the time.

The Cathouse - Saturday 28th January, 2012 One of the best things about this nightclub photography...

Sun, 29 Jan 2012 21:44:00 +0000

The Cathouse - Saturday 28th January, 2012

One of the best things about this nightclub photography malarky is the unexpected folks that you meet.

Keeping in touch is the hard part.

Pale skin, red lips and blue hair = awesome.

I do love coloured hair. Maybe one day I’ll dye mine a ridiculous colour again.

I think she could probably pull them off.

People who’ve never been to the Cathouse must assume that white glasses are all the rage from looking at the pictures.

Til next week…

Cathouse - Australia Day G’day. Tie me kangaroo down sport. Throw another shrimp on the...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 22:39:05 +0000

Cathouse - Australia Day

G’day. Tie me kangaroo down sport. Throw another shrimp on the barbie ya old cobber, etc… It’s time to throw on some ridiculous (and inaccurate) hats, drink pish beer and celebrate Australia day at the Cathouse.

This night only served to confirm that my memory is shot to pieces.

Not a good omen for upcoming degree exams probably.

This is a nice lassie. She bought me two drinks, and probably contributed to the destruction of my facilities of recall.

Working on a Thursday when you’re used to a Friday or Saturday really screws with your perception of the weekend.

I wish I could remember this girl’s name.

This guy looks like he really did just stroll in from the outback.

The wide angle lens makes the guy on the left look like a miniature person.

Sorry about that.

Got to love a bit of shoulder on display.

Ricky’s always a hit with the ladies.

I hadn’t really felt up to working this night after the emotional fracas of the past week, but I’m glad I did.

There’s a lot of talk about ‘community’ and what it means to be part of one. Something about the Cathouse has let it become an impressive (albeit dysfunctional) family. No matter what happens one day, it’s forgotten the next; as if it never happened. People you might fall out or have disagreements with never seem to hold a grudge, and it continually amazes me to be part of it all.

Here’s to communities in unexpected places.

Wisdom dictates that one should not act in the heat of the moment, or write and post something...

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 06:02:00 +0000

Wisdom dictates that one should not act in the heat of the moment, or write and post something online whilst angry and in the throes of intoxication. It can often be unwise and ill thought out.

However, as I’m sure you wonderful readers will know, sometimes you have to give words to feelings that you have immediately when they occur, else risk losing the zeal for them forever afterwards.

The past few days I’ve spent time with people that I’ve either not seen in a long time, or those who I’ve never really gotten the chance to hang out with outside of a brief encounter at work before.

On the way to meet one of my old friends tonight I couldn’t help but reflect a bit on going abroad and now being back home. Being in America, and so far away from everything that happens in regular life, it can be easy to dwell on the romanticism of disappearing off there for some sort of extended period. When you walk along streets that you know so well though, with people who work in the shops along the way waving as you pass, you can’t help but love your city. How else are you meant to find such a deep rooted sense of belonging than somewhere like that… a place that you love? No matter how long or how comfortable you get in Glasgow, there is always going to be a myriad of different people and things to experience… relationships that need to be teased out and explored. If you know somebody in one context, who knows how the dynamic might shift in a different one?

Case in point, this is Julie/Julz/Jules.

This fair red-haired maiden is somebody who I’ve known through a strange set of circumstances for quite a long time. Even though we’ve only ever had brief encounters before tonight, she’s a lovely girl who has always been dead nice to me, and given the close people in our lives that we have in common, it was way past time that we actually got together and hung out for a bit.

It should have been obvious that we’d get on since our connections are through some of my oldest and closest pals, but from the minute she turned up on my doorstep (okay, after getting lost a bit), we seemed to get on like a house on fire. Know where you can just talk and talk with somebody with no pretence and without playing silly conversational games, as if you’ve known each other for years? That’s how it was, and we both couldn’t believe we hadn’t been proper pals a long time ago.

Saying all of that, it’s amazing how the opposite can also be true, and no matter what ties you might think you have to the people in a certain place, how shallow and easily breakable they can turn out to be.

Whilst the romance of going abroad may be obvious, the romance of your home city can be just as deceptive. The feeling of community that is fostered between the weak relationships that we build up day-to-day is so easily shown up as hollow when you come up against certain situations, and leaves you wondering whether there really are any proper ties to your hometown, or wheter it’s all just social semantics.

One thing I am sick to death of is the pre-conception that males and females are unable to spend time together without having an alterior motive.

The social rigmarole that surrounds the idea of a girl and a guy together is probably the single biggest issue issue that pisses me off more than anything else.

As should be obvious from the focus I have on portraits, I love people. There’s something about the incredible complexity that is both fascinating and wonderful to me… and that’s without even considering the emotional response to that.

I often find myself battling against preconceptions because of this. Believe it or not, it is possible to be close to somebody of the opposite sex without having a primary driving motivator based on the physical act of sex.

Tonight I again encountered this pre-disposition in an ugly way, and am left feeling disaffected and jaded. Instead of rallying together to look after people who we care about in common, guys jostle for some sort of macho-bullshit-alpha-male position, not out of any real strength but some sort of deep-rooted insecurity, in order to claim some sort of ridiculous, superficial supremacy. Instead of recognising that those who we supposedly trust are able to be friends with the opposite sex and not simply some sort of arbitrary threat, time and again males opt for the defensive stance… which comes at the detriment of us all.

I am sick and tired of being treated a certain way because of my gender, especially by those who are doing so precisely because of their own corrupt intentions. It’s time that we start fighting back against this ridiculous idea of sexuality, and refuse to criticise those of our own ilk for their perceived actions off the back of our own biase. The more we adopt stereotypes for our own ends, the more we harm ourselves.

I apologise if there are too many big words in this post to be clear enough, and I wouldn’t expect those who I am directing this post at to understand, so let me state the general principle in no uncertain terms:

I will not accept being treated like an idiot again by anybody for being close to somebody of the opposite sex.

Clear enough?

Cool.

50. It’s been over a week since I got back from America, and it all feels oh-so-far-away....

Fri, 20 Jan 2012 16:00:16 +0000

50.

It’s been over a week since I got back from America, and it all feels oh-so-far-away. Despite being a pretty private person, I’m often fairly open on here, which is probably partly because I feel like nobody reads it, so I don’t have any intended listener in mind. As a result, sometimes it’s a good idea to withdraw for a bit to avoid spilling out more truths to the world than might be intended - hence why this update relates to things that happened over a week ago.

Explanations over, below is my father. (I don’t really use that word with any seriousness. Me and my sister started saying it as a bit of a joke, and as with many other things it just stuck. I never was a fan of the usual words that describe people close to you, so it’s easier to mock it than make yourself feel vulnerable).

I think he was in the middle of telling me to make sure I got a good picture of the occasion, which was to mark his 50th birthday.

This is as good as it gets.

It was the Glasgow-based immediate family members that congregated to head to one of our usual haunts for such things: a Greek place on George Square.

It was a nice way to come home.

Going out for some sort of dinner for birthdays or whatever else has been something that we’ve always done as a family unit since we were wee. There’s something communal about eating and talking together, and has become an important ritual… along with drinking a fair amount.

This is my dad doing his bit as a preacher man and turning water into wine.

The older we’ve got, the more wine gets consumed, especially since the question of whether or not to order that last bottle of red isn’t just confined to one of my parents drinking it now… I’ll gladly help out whenever called upon.

A few ouzos later and things started to get a bit odd. My granda always manages to keep quiet all night and then do something outrageous silently in the corner. This time it was imitating a rapper. Not too bad in the grand scheme of things.

Got a lot going on just now. Not even had time to get post-travel blues.

American Update - The Finale This is written from the comfort of my own bed back in Glasgow, after...

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 16:26:00 +0000

American Update - The Finale

This is written from the comfort of my own bed back in Glasgow, after returning from sweet home Alabama. Even though I’d successfully taken numerous flights between three airports and a myriad of security checks (as well as a bus or two), I managed to fall at the last hurdle and take the long train back from Haymarket in Edinburgh to Glasgow. You know the one that stops at every god forsaken town in the central belt of Scotland and takes two hours?

Yup.

In the airport in Dallas I got talking to an American woman who had overheard me speaking to some German guy, and asked which part of Glasgow I was from. Apparently her husband was from Clydebank, and I was relieved to hear that he still had his Wegie accent even after ten years of living in the States. The Americans didn’t believe me that this would happen, but with something as important to your identity as an accent is to Glaswegians, it sticks with you.

This guy also asked me why I’d been out in Texas, and when I replied that I’d actually been in Alabama, he responded by saying: “Aye, very good, but that’s no really an answer to ma question, is it big man?”

You don’t realise how much you miss that sort of caustic response til you’ve been away.

Anyway, this is the last batch of photos from this trip, which is quite sad. It may well be a cliché, but even though I only literally got home last night, the whole adventure seems like a whole world away from here; as if it took place in some sort of parallel life. I’ve spoken about this a bit with all the girls (Natalie and both Carolines) separately, and you can easily underestimate just how disjointed it can be when you experience something in that way, and how it can feel like you have some sort of fractured existence. I’m not quite sure how to handle that better, except to try break down that ‘fourth wall’ that exists in some way.

I spent the last day wandering around where Kenneth lived in Mobile, and for once just enjoyed walking in the sun and letting my mind drift off. When I was younger I remember hearing a quote from C.S. Lewis (I think?) which said that he loved getting delayed when he was going somewhere, because it meant that he had been given time out of a busy world where he could do nothing else except sit and think.

I’ve always liked that idea, but in practice have been rubbish at achieving it. Being hyper-sensitive to what’s going on around about has never really let my thoughts just settle and wander about of their own accord.

Spending so much time in transit, or with my own company on this trip, and being so far removed from everything that might put an emotional squeeze on my immediate thoughts has allowed time for my consciousness to adjust a bit, and it’s got to be a good thing. Hopefully there’ll be some way to keep that ‘peace of mind’ intact.

This is Kenneth. Sadly I didn’t get as much time to hang out with him the way things worked out, but he’s a wonderfully intense, alive sort of person, who is fairly fascinating to spend some time with. We went round to his friend’s house with some Isle of Jura single malt and hung out for a bit so I could meet them, which was cool. The Couchsurfing community in Mobile seems to be just that… a real-life, vibrant community, which I’m fairly envious of.

It doesn’t have a huge amount of bars downtown, but Mobile has a couple that I could easily get used to spending time in. One of them wasn’t dis-similar in feel to the good ol’ 13th Note, and they even had a placed called ‘the Garage’, which actually was a working mechanics at one point. The Americans took great glee in the fact that I called it garage as in garridge, since they all pronounced it garaudj.

This is Stoney Boatman (how awesome a name is that?!) who works at the bar. He’s the one who gave me the shot of Jager and root beer on the very first night, and was a pure good guy man. It’s funny how you meet people along your travels who make things that bit more pleasant. Maybe there’s something in that that we should apply to everyday life…

It was in this fine establishment which we had our final soirée. Quite a few folk that I’d met over the two weeks turned up, which was nice and unexpected. I had some dollars left, and it was pointless bringing them home given the exchange rate, so decided to drink rounds of shots instead.

I’m not entirely sure what they were, as Melissa would say she was up for ‘anything’, but then go on to list what the shots shouldn’t contain, so I believe they were ‘something sweet but strong’. There was definitely rum, pineapple and jager involved at some point. This fine lady made them up for us.

I lost control of the camera at somepoint, so I’m in more than my fair share of these again. Not many people can operate the manual focus f0.95 lens very well… Although Caroline was an impressive exception, it must be said.

Like European countries, drink measures over here are larger than they are at home - partly because of the Weights and Measures Act, partly because they pour their drinks by hand, and partly in line with the fact they’re more expensive. As a result, tanking the booze in a similar fashion to how one would in Glasgow led to much quicker intoxication than usual. This is okay, because I had stupidly promised to join in the following, and required Dutch Courage:

Yes, karaoke.

All the days of being in a band were put to good use as myself, Melissa and Caroline sang none other than I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by the Proclaimers. I think I may even have shouted “Goooodniiiight Alabama”, but I can’t be entirely sure.

…and so we finished the two weeks as we started them - drinking at the karaoke night in the Garage, Mobile, Alabama - except this time as friends for life.

I’m gonnae miss ya bastards.

American Update #something or other - the penultimate. So it’s come to that point again; that...

Wed, 11 Jan 2012 07:18:00 +0000

American Update #something or other - the penultimate.

So it’s come to that point again; that point where I feel the horrible lurching feeling about leaving people that I’ve met behind, knowing that I might never see them again, and wondering just how far distance can stretch relationships… that time where I piss everybody at home off by missing a time and place that they weren’t part of; where it doesn’t really affect those along the way as much because meeting you is a smaller event in their lives than flying across the world is to you; and the time where you’re forced to either let emotions fade upon your return or go crazy.

Before that though, there’s still some other folk to meet and things to ponder upon. Forgive the jumping around if you will.

Atlanta, Georgia - Museum of High Art

When I was coming back from Nashville I had a few hours worth of layover between busses in Atlanta again. I hopped on the train and went to the Museum of High Art, which was full of everything from furniture to contemporary American stuff. I skipped the floors on ‘European Art’ - partly because it was all old, partly because I didn’t have very much time and couldn’t get round everything.

I’m fairly open minded about things and can appreciate them without having to worry too much about the explanation or made-up purpose or anything else, but something like this….

… really isn’t my cup of tea.

There was some rather interesting things kicking about elsewhere though…

and there was a small section on Warhol, which I always find pretty interesting - more so because of his character than anything else. A death metal band from the US once told me that I looked like Andy Warhol, which was a bit odd.

My pictures have been pretty gash at the moment, and I’m in a position where I don’t think very much of anything I’m doing is any good. We all know that feeling, but it still manages to creep up at inappropriate times. It might well be partly because of the number of pictures you take when you travel that you wouldn’t normally do anything with, but which you neeeeeeed to for posterity’s sake.

Or maybe I’m just taking shiite photos!

I’m couchsurfing for the last few days here in Mobile with a guy called Kenneth. The energy and enthusiasm he has for life and the couchsurfing community in Alabama makes me pretty envious. He doesn’t lock his doors and is so laid back about everything that it puts most people I know (including me) to shame. We’ll be having a whisky or few tomorrow, so there’ll be photos of that to come.

The Alabama v Louisiana State ‘college football’ championship game was on last night, and we watched it in a local bar that was stocked with mental Bama fans. Chris explained the rules a bit, which meant I could actually follow at least some of what was going on. Alabama won with a ‘shutout’ (a clean sheet in our language), so there was a fair bit of celebratory drinking and dancing going on when we headed to a bar afterwards.

Coming out here the past couple of times has done a lot to shake up my outlook a bit, and because of that I felt it was high time to get a tattoo to make sure I didn’t forget that. I only have an out-of-focus instagram pic for now.

Easier said than done mind you. A three mile walk turned into an hour and a half trek which took me along train tracks, under bridges and (running) across highways.

I decided to opt to take a taxi back. Note to one and all: American cities (in general) aren’t really designed for people to walk anywhere. The car is king.

Not quite sure what I’m going to do tomorrow during the day, but we’re going out at night for one last swan song. I’m going to try not think about it just now.

…or the plane journey home. Or how to get back from Edinburgh airport… or…

American Update #7 - NEW ORLEANS Wow… what a place. I’m not sure where to start. Anybody...

Mon, 09 Jan 2012 19:58:57 +0000

American Update #7 - NEW ORLEANS

Wow… what a place. I’m not sure where to start. Anybody that gets half a chance to come here should definitely go out of their way to make it happen.

This American city is definitely my favourite so far. What Atlanta lacked in a bit of life, New Orleans has by the bucketloads: shops and bars and unique places round every corner, this is somewhere special. The French/Spanish past of Louisiana has left a lasting legacy on both the look and feel of NOLA, but on the culture and mindset as well. The buildings and infrastructure have a distinct ‘European’ flavour, but with a special American twist.

We found shops with all sorts of crazy things, like a massive antiques shop with old hats, sunglasses and err… weird expensive books like this:

Bourbon Street is the craziest and probably most well known part of the city, and it’s almost impossible to explain just what it’s like here. Photos alone certainly don’t do it justice. Essentially it’s one huge long street packed with all sorts of debauchery: hand-rolled cigars; eccentric street performers; people throwing ‘mardi gras’ beads off of the balconies of bars to people below; an assortment of super strong ‘drinks to go’ that you can wander around the streets with (legally!). I wandered around in a bit of a daze for the first part; it’s so far removed from everything else I’ve experienced in the States… and anywhere in the world actually.

All of this was compounded by the timing of our visit… which was right slap bang in the middle of the weekend where there were two big sporting events going on. One of these was the college football national championship match between none other than the University of Alabama and Louisiana State University. Over here that might not seem like that big of a deal, but here it’s a derby, and so the streets were packed with fans from all sides shouting their team slogans at each other.

What was probably most amazing was that despite all of the drink and insanity, there was hardly any negative feelings between the two sides. Back home the idea of rival football fans mixing in such a way is almost unthinkable without some sort of violence.

Saying that, it was fairly easy to see that the atmosphere of the city isn’t just down to the visitors that were there, and that no matter where you go, New Orleans has a whole lot to offer.

Not everybody was impressed by the heady environment though, as you might imagine.

Caroline studied at the University of Alabama, so practically her entire school was down in New Orleans for the weekend, and we met a whole slew of cool people, and did our fair share of indulging in those acts which apparently will send us to hell (not quite sure that’s theologically accurate, I have to say).

This is Stephanie, she had an uncanny resemblance to my old pal Kirsty from back home; mannerisms and everything. It’s really weird when that happens.

…and David, who stayed with me in Glasgow at the same time as Caroline. Pretty awesome to be reunited across the pond.

and this is Natalie Beck. She’s cute.

Traveling in this wasy is a double edge sword… it lets you go places and meet the most wonderful of people, as well as coming up with all sorts of possibilities and options of what your life could be if you lived somewhere different, yet doesn’t provide any time or way for this to happen easily. It’s a curse, and not for the faint hearted. I’ve not quite worked out if that applies to me or not yet.

Following on from that, there was a nice reminder of home in the form of a man in a kilt in one of the bars we had set up residency in later on in the night. I half expected him to be American, so when he replied in a gruff Glaswegian accent that he was from Govanhill, I was more than pleased… even more so when him and his pals repeated almost exactly the same things that I had been saying earlier about Scotland, which vindicated my positions. I had tried to explain previously that Scots tend to slag each other off, and that the language and everything else is actually an endearing thing… but not all the Americans were buying it (probably just thought I was a dick to be fair!), so when this guy turned up and almost straight away said something un-repeatable to me, then said it was okay because “that’s just what we do”, it felt gooooood.

The next day we kicked off things with bloody mary cocktails and hash browns in the glorious sunshine, listening to kids playing an assortment of wind instruments outside. There’s no better way to start a day, trust me.

My love for Melissa was firmly cemented on this trip; she was my unpredictable partner in crime, and who knows, maybe we’ll be flatmates in New Orleans one day.

So that was New Orleans. I spent WAY too much money, still feel rough, and was too busy drinking to get tattooed as planned, but I had a blast. Hopefully it won’t be my last venture out there. Lots to think about.

American Update #6 - Nashville Welcome to Nashville… ‘Music City’. I like this...

Mon, 09 Jan 2012 18:34:00 +0000

American Update #6 - Nashville

Welcome to Nashville… ‘Music City’.

I like this place. It feels a lot more like a City than Atlanta did. Whilst the latter seemed fairly empty and lifeless, Nashville has a bit of soul, and a downtown area that actually has shops and bars to wander about in.

One of the cool things was walking past the various bars and hearing different styles of music wafting out all throughout the day. It seemed like everywhere that sold alcohol had some sort of band or musician playing. I ended up in a couple, and what was more amazing was that people in the bar were actually listening and enjoying the whole thing. At home you either go to see a band specifically or else it’s somewhat of an annoyance. Maybe if we had more traditional Celtic music without it having to be an ‘event’ then that might be a bit different.

One of the rather strange things about Nashville is that they have a full-size replica of the Parthenon from Athens, Greece, that sits in their Centennial Park. Apparently there was a temporary structure built for a celebration there at some point in the past, and it proved to be so popular that they turned it into a permanent fixture.

Having been to the real one a couple of times, I felt like I had to see what this was like for myself, and embarked on what I thought was a ten minute walk from downtown. An hour later I found it:

Inside they even had a reconstruction of the statue of the Goddess Athena, which is thought to have stood inside the Parthenon in this position. This was pretty interesting, since you haven’t been able to get inside the Greek Parthenon for a long time due to restoration works, and so it was a pretty impressive way to get an idea of what the inside might have been like.

Sitting flat in a park, it was never going to have the same mystique as that of the Acropolis, perched high above the city, and it would be easy to cynically dismiss it as an American attempt to appropriate a bit of ancient culture, but the reason they chose this particular building is pretty interesting. Nashville is apparently known as the ‘Athens of the South’, and so it’s fitting for that reason alone… but they also want the structure to be a symbol of education and knowledge, just as the ancient city of Athens was known for its perspective on the world. Pretty cool really.

I only could make it up to Nashville thanks to the wonders of Couchsurfing, so I have a lot to thank my wonderful hosts for. Dan lived in this brightly coloured house in Nashville, which apparently the neighbours aren’t too chuffed about.

I think it’s brilliant.

American Update #5 - Jack Daniel’s Distillery - Lynchburg, Tennessee The time has finally...

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 16:47:29 +0000

American Update #5 - Jack Daniel’s Distillery - Lynchburg, Tennessee

The time has finally come…

but first… Dan (my couchsurfing host for the few days I’m Nashville) and I had breakfast. Apparently you can’t go to the South without having at least one meal at Waffle House.

It’s funny how things work out.

Ever since I started drinking Jack Daniel’s, the mentions on the website and mailouts of visiting the distillery in Lynchburg seemed like one of these interesting, but completely impossible ideas. Despite being in America, the town isn’t even really near somewhere that I would ever have thought of choosing to go out and visit. It’s a tiny place with a population of about 361 (apparently), which is an hour and a half drive outside of Nashville… the busses don’t even run anymore, so unless you can drive, you’re stuffed.

When I discovered that Caroline lived a distance that wasn’t too ridiculous, it seemed almost too good to be true. Finally, I might actually be able to make the long and sacred pilgrimage to the Mecca of Jack Daniel’s.

This is Bettie, who was our charming Southern tour guide. Photos weren’t allowed on the inside of the actual production buildings, which is a shame, but she told us all sorts of interesting things that made up for it.

For example, the biggest export market for Jack Daniel’s in the world is… the U.K. Pretty impressive stuff really. When she found out I was from Scotland she also told me that a lot of the barrels that are used in the making of the Tennessee whiskey are sent to whisky makers back home to be used in the production of our own malts. They only use the barrels once, and I’d always wondered whether or not the Scots would end up with them.

The barrels here aren’t tracked by age, and instead they are checked by specially designated ‘tasters’ who determine when the spirit has reached the optimum maturity. This must let them get through a heck of a lot more volume than if they were forced to wait a designated time, which partly explains why such a relatively small distillery can produce enough spirit to supply the entire world’s craving for Jack Daniel’s.

The bottles below are samples of the spirit from different levels of the 7 storey warehouse that the barrels are held in. The colour of the spirit comes from the wood itself, which also helps add flavour.

This is me doing some weird awkward arm lean on my old pal Jack himself. It almost looks like I’m doing some sort of jig.

Apparently coming in early to work one morning, Jack Daniel’s kicked the door of a safe in his office when he couldn’t get it open. He broke his toe, which eventually led to an infection which eventually led to his death. The motto? Apparently you shouldn’t go into work early.

I always felt like somewhat of a fraud since I don’t ever drink Jack Daniel’s straight (unless it’s the honey one). If I’m going to have straight whisky then it has to be just that… Scottish single malt. However, any other time it will be Jack and coke, or Jack and ginger beer. I’ve had bottles of single barrel in the past, and whilst it tasted good, it probably wasn’t worth the extra expenditure of cash to defile it with a mixer.

Saying that though, I overheard a whole number of people today who counted themselves as connoisseurs of Jack Daniel’s who all said they never drank it straight… including a number of the staff. I feel completely vindicated as a result, even though it wouldn’t matter anyway… me and Jack have been through too much.

The County in which the distillery is located is completely dry, as in no alcohol may be sold or produced there. When this was brought in, the facility had to close down, and the proprietor attempted to start up operations in different cities, but the production quality was reportedly never as good as it should have been, and so this never bore fruit. One of the key ingredients is apparently the spring which is on the site in Lynchburg which has naturally filtered, iron-free water, and so the owner got elected to the County board and an exception was granted for both the production and the sale of ‘souvenier’ bottles’ at the distillery.

Crafty.

Now if only I had more room in my suitcase…

American Update #4 - Post Hogmanay, and the City of Atlanta. Hangover? Luckily the South have a...

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 05:40:06 +0000

American Update #4 - Post Hogmanay, and the City of Atlanta.

Hangover? Luckily the South have a love of deep fried food in common with the Scots. You can get all sorts of things battered, which is fine by me. I’d lost a fair bit of weight before I came to the States… I’m sure when I return to the homeland I’m going to be like the side of a house.

Behold… Deep fried green tomatoes:

Awesome stuff… and as Caroline says… they are a vegetable after all, so it can’t be all bad?

The sky down here is pretty amazing at night… clear and with some awesome colours. I like how even the smallest of Cities have got a skyline that looms up from the landscape.

This is Downtown Mobile in Alabama.

That’s another thing I like about the States. They have no problem with brightly coloured lights everywhere. I’m a total sucker for colourful lights.

Atlanta

Caroline dropped me off in some bizarre location at some stupid time in the morning (thanks again by the way) to begin my marathon Megabus journey up to Nashville, through Atlanta… which has a rather impressive skyline.

After catching the Megabus from Birmingham to Glasgow a while ago, I decided I’d never travel that way again; it was awful… but then, this is America, right? Plus, the next cheapest option was about five times the price.

It wasn’t half bad mind you. The wifi didn’t connect, which wasn’t too much of a shocker. Then again, it did connect up technically… it just didn’t have an internet connection. Ahem.

Instead, I just slept and watched movies. The hours flew by… I must be getting good at this travelling malarky. That, or just getting good at letting my brain turn into a stupor on transportation.

Hmm.

Atlanta’s the home of Coca-Cola World (and I presume Coke itself?). The attraction is fairly big and flashy… a bit further down the road we find the offices, which look quite different and wrapped up in barbed wire. Barbed wire?! What sort of soft drinks company needs that level of protection?

I have to be honest and say that I wasn’t the biggest fan of Atlanta. It was a cool city to visit, and there’s definitely some impressive big attractions to go and visit, but after wandering around for hours, the streets seemed to lack a bit of life. A lot of the time I was the only person or car on the block, which was a bit intimidating, and downright weird. There didn’t seem to be any single area that had a string of shops or bars. Downtown was full of sketchy characters trying to flog you things outside of a crazy number of places offering gold teeth.

Maybe I was just in the wrong places, but for such a big, sprawling city I would have hoped/expected there to be a bit more going on in the centre than what I saw.

The only place that was at all busy was the underground shopping centre, which is a bit strange considering how sunny it is here. They did have a Scottish and Welsh flag on the roof though… and notice anything? No English flag! Another minor victory.

One really cool thing about Atlanta is that it’s where Martin Luther King Jnr. was born and spent time as a minister.

There’s a whole historic site in his memory, and despite the American travel blogs warning that it was a “long walk” from the train station, I went anyway, and it turned out only to be ten minutes down the road.

It was crazy to be there and think that all of this was only happening in the late 60s; about forty years ago. There were videos of marches where the police violently beat and attacked completely peaceful protestors, and it’s amazing that it didn’t erupt into widespread violence. It’s interesting to think about how highly regarded this man is for the changes he made and his stance on non-violent resistance, when at the same time we consider the contempt society gives to those who deploy similar tactics today.

These are an example of some of the laws that were in place at the time:

Whilst there’s a much larger church built across the road now, this is the church where M.L. spoke and grew up attending. It had a nice warm feel to it, and not one of stiff, rigid solitude that one may expect from other religious buildings. A whole lot could probably be read into it, but I won’t do it the dis-service of doing such a thing.

This is the house where he was born, and the houses on the street are preserved like this, which is pretty amazing to see in the middle of the city.

I have some more time in Atlanta when I come back from Nashville in a few days, so I might jump on the train and head over to the High Art Museum which I only got to see the outside of this time. The time difference is an hour between the states though, which throws me off a bit. I’m never sure if my phone has updated properly or not, which could be disastrous for the bus journey home if I mis-judge it.

Since I was on my own, and with nobody else to turn my camera on like I would usually, here’s one of me.

Enjoy.

American Update #3 - Hogmanay We begin slightly before Hogmanay, as that’s just how this whole...

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 07:24:00 +0000

American Update #3 - Hogmanay

We begin slightly before Hogmanay, as that’s just how this whole blogging thing pans out whilst you’re on the move. We had a much calmer evening of drinking in Caroline’s flat, given the previous two nights’ shenanigans, and my ridiculous jet-lag.

We played some game called ‘things’, where you get a card like ‘things you would never admit to a police officer’, everyone writes down their answer and then people have to guess who said what. As you can imagine, this can become pretty interesting pretty fast, especially when fuelled by alcohol.

Apparently here you can buy green tomatoes… as in, not ripe, and then deep fat fry them. Amazing. It’s on the list of things to try.

but on to Hogmanay itself…

there were many ideas banded about. There was some sort of mini Mardi Gras parade going on (Mobile is where Mardi Gras started; the big ball thing you see on top of buildings that counts down to New Year was also happening… in the end we decided to start off by drinking at Caroline’s pad and then make our way out afterwards.

What’s that they say about all the best laid plans…? Not all of our number made it out at all on the actual eve itself, passing out after not eating much and drinking since what would have been dinner time.

Those of us who did decide to plough ahead went downtown to a fairly newish bar. I had managed to overcome the early onset of tiredness caused by the whole traveling thing by not saying or moving very much all day, so that was a victory.

As we set off towards where we were going to be drinking, I’ll never forget Mel drunkenly opening a bottle of champage in the back of her jeep as myself and Chris were discussing the finer points of the law with regards to alcohol and cars. People were a bit wary of letting her wander about the streets swigging from the open bottle till we discovered this:

Apparently just before we had parked up, a stray bullet had hit one of the two cars that we were in. I’ve always wondered what happens to the ammo if you shoot a gun up into the air, and now I know. What goes up must come down after all… and apparently it isn’t a totally unusual way for people to get injured or even killed. Everybody that heard about it over here was pretty shocked that it had happened though, so I wouldn’t be too quick to paint the whole country with the automatic gun-slinging brush that we may be tempted to wheel out.

Shootings coupled with the eery fog and shifty characters that were wandering about, suddenly swigging from the bottle of champagne didn’t seem like too bad an idea at all.

As we neared the bar we heard people cheering and saw the glow of fireworks through the fog, which could only mean one thing… that we were celebrating Hogmanay in the street after getting shot at and not even at the bar we wanted to be at yet.

When we finally got to the bar everything was a lot more genial, although it did clear out pretty quickly after the bells, and being new, the bar had yet to acquire a late licence, so we got papped out fairly early.

I of course was wearing a kilt, and the ladies just couldn’t resist copping a feel of the sporran.

So how was Hogmanay abroad?

Interesting indeed!

It was a bit odd to miss out on a part of the year that is so integral to being Scottish, but it was definitely good to experience it in a fresh way. It may not have been a picture perfect scenario in some respects, or have gone exactly to plan (okay, definitely didn’t), but the whole reason I wanted to spend this year away from Scotland was to do something a bit different, and this certainly won’t be forgotten in a hurry.

I’m tired and not making much sense now, so this is more a flying update than a deep introspection. Goodnight chaps. Hope you had a good one.

Alabama Update #2 I’m writing this in the courtyard of Caroline’s apartment building...

Sat, 31 Dec 2011 19:28:52 +0000

Alabama Update #2

I’m writing this in the courtyard of Caroline’s apartment building with a glass of orange juice, feeling my head burning in the sun. It’s ‘only’ eighteen degrees (Celcius), and it’s about eight back home apparently, but the difference in the weather couldn’t be more stark. It’s like the summer here: not a cloud in the sky.

The place where she lives is pretty unusual in the respect that all of the neighbours hang out and spend time together; a bit like the old communal attitude of the Glasgow closes of old, or student halls where you leave your doors open across the corridor from each other. I wish our courtyard back in the City was more like it is here, but the design isn’t exactly conducive to such a mentality. The architects really missed a trick on that one.

Anyway, we ended up heading out straight after Caroline’s work to a place called Hayley’s Bar. Apparently they make the best bloody marys around. Last time I tried one (in the States coincidentally), I wasn’t exactly impressed, but I went with the flow and it was awesome. More of a drink than a soup like the last one was.

We also discovered a practice that I think more Glaswegian bars should take up…

Frying chicken wings in a big bucket outside the front door for people to eat for free:

Amazing.

After that we headed to O’Dalys ‘Irish’ bar, which had this logo:

Now is that just me, or does that lion in the middle look suspiciously like a Scottish Lion Rampant?

Nice cross cultural appropriation there.

Another thing that they were good at was contraversial drink names. For example, I give you the car bomb:

A shot of Baileys with Jameson whiskey, dropped into a half pint of Guinness.

and the trash-can… which resembled some sort of super strong Woo Woo cocktail.

Caroline commandeered the camera for a while, so there are more pictures of me than normal.

and it’s also why there are pictures of random people that we don’t know…

This is Melissa. She is a legend, and looks can be deceiving. She’s as mad as a bag of cats, to borrow an expression from someone else, and she’s lovely. Unpredictable people are the best.

and Chris, who is another protagonist in our Alabama story. He’s one of those guys who is instantly likable, and I’ve found myself communicating with him a few times without even saying a word. That may well be because we’re both predictable, but I’m sure it’s not, haha.

This is Caroline doing a wonderful impression of a character from Chicken Run without realising it.

I’ll be honest, I never used to believe that jet lag existed, but the past few days have totally changed that. At around 11pm I felt totally wiped out, as if it was six in the morning or something, which I guess my body thought it was.

I really need to man up before Hogmanay. I feel like I’m letting the side down.

We headed to some bar to eat chips fried in duck-fat (amazing), and play with parmesan. How come everything in America looks like it could be straight out of a movie set?

Roll on Hogmanay.

Happy New Year and all that!

Alabama Update - Part One. I have finally made it to Sweet home Alabama. (Oh come on, it had to be...

Fri, 30 Dec 2011 20:51:08 +0000

Alabama Update - Part One.

I have finally made it to Sweet home Alabama. (Oh come on, it had to be said at least once).

Braving the marathon journey from Edinburgh to the City of Mobile, flying with American Airlines was definitely not as grand as flying with Delta to Denver was. Despite the comfort of starting the first leg of the trip from Edinburgh (and so getting to listen to airline staff talk about coughing parrots), I hadn’t quite expected the plane on the ten hour section to resemble something from the 60s. In flight entertainment?! Pah! Free drinks? You’ve got to be joking! Gluten free meal (that I had requested?) Get fucked.. take this pasta and like it.

Luckily customs didn’t hassle me at all this time, and so I was free to get on the last leg of the flight, which turned out to be in some sort of comedy, Buddy Holly plane. The words of Billy Connolly were left ringing in my ears from when he talked about how “you’d just hit the ground like a fucking dart.”

Caroline came to meet me, which is always good. Being stranded in Alabama after a long-haul flight would not have been the greatest experience in the world I’m sure.

I was thinking about various trips I’ve made over the years, and I’ve realised that one of the best feelings in the world is that first hug you have with somebody that you’ve not seen in a long time; it makes the whole arduous process - time and money spent - totally worth it.

I inhaled a chicken burger from Wendy’s (remember them!?) and we headed straight to ‘the Garage’ for some drunken karaoke. I felt a bit like my brain had melted by this point, but the rendition of ‘Circle of Life’ by Caroline and Mel is something that will remain with me for a very long time. Ahem.

This Garage actually looked a bit like a garage too - with big metal shutters. The barman told me America wasn’t always full of terrible karaoke singers, and gave me a shot of root beer and jager. Not bad, I have to say… much better than a jagerbomb anyway.

The next day I wandered about whilst Caroline was working, and got my first tastes of downtown Mobile.

My penchant for comedy signage was not disappointed.

and can somebody explain to me why a chicken place sells biscuits?!

I did spot a Segway though, and for a minute was definitely tempted to make off with it into the sunset.

I also spotted this gap between some buildings…

For those of you that used to watch Hey Arnold: Remember the episode where they clear out an abandoned spot of land and play baseball? This bit looks exactly like that location (albeit not in cartoon form).

Spooky.

and no matter where in the world you go, you can’t quite seem to escape the Scots…

First impressions: Mobile has a population of about 400,000 people, which is about 4 times the size of Dundee, but because of the way that American cities are spread out and not concentrated with town centres like we’re used to, it seems much smaller than it actually is.

Everyone seems very laid back and lives at a fairly nice pace… people know each other and the police don’t seem as intimidating as they do in other parts of the States. It may well have something to do with the fact that it’s still about 23 degrees (Celcius) on the 30th of December. Crazy.

Anyway, my bus is booked to Nashville, and we’ve got lots of other cool things on the cards (including a Mardi Gras parade for Hogmanay!), so I’ll update with these in due course.