The abandoned mill near Gramat -moving on

The abondoned mill near Gramat – moving on
Moving on through the canyon hiding the remnants of impressive water mills, following a narrow path under a canopy of gloomy tree tops, you suddenly walk into the sunshine. This second mill is located halfway between Gramat and the medieval site of Rocamadour, in the Lot region, in the southwest of France. The mill in the photo- the second one in this canyon- is almost non existent. Which probably makes it even more real…

#ajournaloveneventfuldays #gramat #mill 



Philip K. Dick/ We Can Build You

Philip K. Dick/ We can build you
Our sales technique was perfected in the early 1970’s. First we put an ad in a local newspaper, in the classifieds.
“Spinet piano also electronic organ, repossessed, in perfect condition, SACRIFICE. Cash or good credit risk wanted in this area, to take over payments rather than transport back to Oregon. Contact Frauenzimmer Piano Company, Mr Rock, Credit Manager, Ontario, Ore.”
For years we’ve run this ad in newspapers in one town after another, all up and down the western states and as far inland as Colorado. The whole approach developed on a scientific, systematic basis; we use maps, and sweep along so that no town goes untouched. We own four turbine-powered trucks, out on the road constantly, one man to a truck.

Anyhow, we place the ad, say in the San Raphael Independent-Journal, and soon letters start arriving at our office in Ontario , Oregon, where my partner Maury Rock takes care of all that. He sorts the letters and compiles lists, and then when he had enough contacts in a particular area, say around San Rafael, he night-wires the truck. Suppose it’s Fred down there in Marin County. When Fred gets the wire he brings out his own map and lists the calls in proper sequence. And then he finds a pay phone and telephones the first prospect.

Meanwhile, Maury had airmailed an answer to each person who’s written in response to the ad.

(on back cover:)

We started out making electronic organs and spinets – the Frauenzimmer Piano Company, that was us. Then the bottom dropped out of the market, so we turned over to simulacra – exact reconstructions of famous personalities. We made an Abraham Lincoln, for instance – stupid, he had ALL Lincoln’s characteristics, and he wasn’t about to be anybody’s puppet.

That was when things really started going wrong… 
(Fontana 1977, first published by Daw Books, 1972)
Philip K. Dick was born in Chicago in 1928. He attended the University of California, ran a classical department in a record store and had his own classical music programme on radio.




Trying to repair the dm5

Trying to repair the DM5 
I bought a pair of vintage dm5 speakers which were part of the legendary series Bowers&Wilkins made in the seventies. (DM = Domestic Monitor). I paid €110 (about $120?).

The dm5 is between bookshelf and floorstanding and, for its small size, it has amazing strength especially in the low range.

However, the previous owner didn’t tell me about the issues with one of the speakers. He just said that “they sounded allright”. Which they didn’t. Or better one didn’t.

The faulty one produced a loud, kind of flapping noise from the woofer. Obviously, this was something to be looked into. I never opened a hifi speaker before.

We tried our luck. We = my wife and I.

One of the woofer driver screws appeared to be blocked ànd loose at the same time. Could this cause the chattering noise ?   

Meanwhile, we had already glued a little hole we discovered in the heart of the woofer cone. You never know. But no, noise still there.

Now we had to drill out the blocked screw and see what was happening inside of the enclosure: masses of dampening wool-like stuff, some connecting wires in good condition, the strange backside of the woofer cone, clusters of white corrosive dots, but nothing whatsoever that would cause the loud noise.

We noticed that pressing our fingers hard on the empty screw holes while playing music, diminished the noise which could mean nothing was wrong with the crossovers or the wires or the dampening material. 

So far, so good. Now we must find the right screw (or a lookalike) to replace the one which was used in 1978. More on this later…




Connan Mockasin/ Remember the Time

Connan Mockasin/ Remember the Time
Conan Mockassin & Band are contemporary rock musicians in all respects. Connan’s studio work sounds analytic, in search of perfection (e.g.his recent “Caramel” album). But his liveshows are quite different. Then he sometimes reminds of the free flowing style of sixties bands like The Grateful Dead. Not musically/stylistically but spiritually, with songs more than often gradually changing into musical happenings and adventures.

#ajournalofuneventfuldays #connan mockasin


Eugène Ionesco/ La leçon

Eugène Ionesco/ La leçon


J’ai mal aux dents!

C’est pourtant bien simple: pour le mot Italie, en français nous avons le mot France qui en est la traduction exacte. Ma patrie est la France. Et France en oriental: Orient! Ma patrie est l’Orient. Et Orient en portugais: Portugal! L’expression orientale: ma patrie est l’Orient se traduit donc de cette façon en portugais: ma patrie est le Portugal! Et ainsi de suite…

Ça va, ça va! J’ai mal…

(Gallimard, 1954)
The Theatre of the Absurd (French: théâtre de l’absurde [teɑtʁ(ə) də lapsyʁd]) is a designation for particular plays of absurdist fiction written by a number of primarily European playwrights in the late 1950s, as well as one for the style of theatre which has evolved from their work.

“La leçon” (“The Lesson”) was staged for the first time in the ‘Théâtre de Poche’ on Februarythe 20th 1951. Ionesco’s plays are in many ways similar to the work of Samuel Beckett, Luigi Pirandello, Harold Pinter, to name but the most well-known.
´Eugène Ionesco (born Eugen Ionescu, Romanian: [e.uˈd͡ʒen i.oˈnesku]; 26 November 1909 – 28 March 1994) was a Romanian-French playwright wrote mostly in French. Beyond ridiculing the most banal situations, Ionesco’s plays depict the solitude and insignificance of human existence in a tangible way. 


Remembering some ancestors

Remembering some ancestors
My grandparents/great-grandparents owned a company which contained greengrocers, fruit growers and a plant nursery all in one spot. But that was in the early stages of the 20th century. In the sixties only the fruit growing was continued and some years later apples and pears was all there was left. Other specialties like melons,peaches, prunes, beans, chysanthemums, nuts and so on were swiped away by… the global economy.

Photo: harvesting strawberries sometime in 1930-1935 



Tristan Tzara/L’homme approximatif

Tristan Tzara/ L’Homme Approximatif
la terre me tient serré dans son poing d’orageuse angoise

que personne ne bouge! on entend l’heure se frayer le vol de mouche

et rejoindre la journée en quête d’une fin

serrons entre les mâchoirs les minutes qui nous séparent


haut les mains? pour accueillir l’ange qui va tmber

s’effeuiller en neige de lucioles sur vos têtes

ciel affaibli par le vent qui a tant soufflé

nous payerons des souffrances les innombrables dettes


la gare s’épaissit de jeux de sifflets

tant de volontés nagent dans l’amère densité

que la sonnerie mène le flot rongeur

avec les noires et fétides indignations entrailles spumeuses de la terre

aux surfaces veloutées vers quels buts buveurs d’espoirs

qu’on achète au prix de lentes semences

ornés des attributs des corps de métiers

qu’on boit dans les abreuvoirs avec de reniflantes narines de cheval

qu’on chasse en cercles dans les manèges villageois

qu’on fume la pipe vieille d’aigles

qu’on garde garde bergers des toits fumant le soir

entrevus dans les glaces pressentis au coeur de pierres

au fond des mines de pétrole sur des sommiers de lourds limons

dans les granges où la vie se mesure avec le grain

mousses clairs coussins des eaux assises dans le soleil


(Gallimard, 1968, first published in 1931)
The ‘poems in prose’ in L’homme Approximatif (1925-1930) serve as good examples of the famous ‘stream of consciousness’ technique of writing, in which the written words, sentences, paragraphs are virtually dictated by an inner process that in no longer mastered or owned by the poet himself. He or she only makes it happen. A bit similar to what James Joyce did in Finnegan’s Wake and in Ulysses. Or, in a funny way, think of rap and hiphop on a slightly more subdued level.

#ajournalofuneventfuldays #tristan tzara