Lagged, plus a few pictures

I’ve been back from Venice for three days now, but I’m afraid I may have dropped my normal sleep schedule in a canal somewhere. Saturday evening I fell asleep at about 2 AM, almost exactly twenty-four hours after I woke up in Venice (no matter the length of the flight, I simply cannot sleep in an airplane). I unplugged the alarm, hoping to sleep until my body got all the rest it needed. Much to my chagrin my body apparently only needed six and a half hours of sleep.

Not surprisingly Sunday night saw me start to nod off rather early, around 11 PM. More surprising was the fact that I was wide awake by 4:30 AM. I struggled to fall back asleep - not needing to be at work until 9 AM, 4:30 was simply unacceptable. Of course then my wife reminded me of my jury summons for Monday, which meant my jet-lagged self had to endure seven hours of waiting in a jury auditorium. But that’s another post.

Monday night I made it to midnight, still a far cry from my usual 2 AM. Again my body beat my alarm, by over an hour. And now here I am fighting off drowsiness which has been haunting me since 8:30 PM. Is this normal? I was in Europe for a week longer last summer - it took me no more than one day to get back on a regular sleep schedule. But this doesn’t seem like a time-change influenced sleep distortion.

Through the odd sleep and jury duty I’ve managed to post a few pictures from the Venice trip on a wordpress.com site - the better to save on bandwidth here. I don’t think Tim has anything to worry about though, especially if he keeps posting stories like this.


Save the Sex Pistols

When I heard the news that the Sex Pistols were nominated for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, I couldn’t help but think how disorienting it would be to see punk’s original snots at such a pompous ceremony. Imagine the utter incongruity of the Pistols being inducted this year - about five years after they were originally nominated - in the same ceremony as Herb Alpert.

And yet the Pistols have managed to be even sadder with a pathetic attempt to regain their punk rebellion edge - they posted a rejection letter on their website complete with poor handwriting and misspellings. You see, punx can’t be bothered to spell properly. The Pistols’ clever marketing, at the hands of manager Malcolm McLaren, was precisely what made them an oh-so-brief sensation thirty years ago. The attitude, the clothes (straight from McLaren’s sex shop) - everything was a product (sorry for those that thought the Pistols were so much more real than those sellouts in blink-182 - if it’s altruistic punk you’re looking for, try pre-”Should I Stay or Should I Go” Clash). But it was mostly new, so it worked.

Unfortunately for them it might be a little late to still be drawing from that well. Anyone young enough to currently dig the punk attitude has no idea who these old folks are, and anyone old enough to remember them knows better than to buy into the mock mockery anymore.

But if you ask me, it’s just as well - one album that has dated poorly and 26 months of staged irreverance don’t really say Hall of Fame to me. I guess you can argue that good bands like the Clash and the Buzzcocks were formed solely as a response to the Pistols, though I’ll bet the politics and economics of Britain in the 70’s could lay more of a claim to punk’s inception than fetish wear and bad bass players. Mostly I’m sure no one would be all that heartbroken if the Pistols never happened - the only semi-direct consequence of the Pistols I can say I would miss is Sid and Nancy.