Captain Biggles

I have a frightfully big bone to pick with Google.

Imagine that you are strolling absentmindedly along your local high-street one day when you suddenly recognise an old acquaintance walking in the opposite direction. As you wave congenially to them you would expect to obtain some form of acknowledgement. It might be a fleeting glance. It might be a handshake. It might be that you spend the next four hours making small talk in the nearest Weatherspoon with someone you hardly know. Whatever the outcome, it is deemed the greatest slight to ‘blank’ such an advance altogether. To be left impotently gesticulating in a public place is the ugliest humiliation. In polite society, if quarrelling is like traditional military engagement, a ‘blank’ is the social equivalent of unleashing mustard gas. It is a dirty, underhand and gruesome tactic.

This is how I feel about Google. Oh, had you forgotten that I was discussing our omnipotent webmaster?

Google knows exactly who I am. I visit her several times a day and ask her various ontological questions. It is a sad truth that I see Google with more frequency than I see my own mother. Why then, when I type the words ‘KITES MYSPACE’ into her window of wisdom, does she callously refuse to recognise me?

Google! You left me standing limply in the street screaming your name as you walked casually by! If I knew what ‘Bing’ was I would be using it!

To make matters worse, she happily lists every other band with a similar name. Evidently, Google has her favourites. She is as fickle as the most weak-minded primary school teacher. I will not be party to such petty politics. Ever since Google signed a deal with Verizon she has undermined the very principle of digital democracy. Why should I change a band name for the sole purpose of improving my SEO ratings? No, it is Google who should change. Let us revolt against this cruel tyrant!

If I saw Google in the street nowadays, I wouldn’t simply blank her, I would go over and spit in her face!

Oh dear, I think I need a cloth to clean my computer monitor.

"So let's not drift here like the Raft of Medusa. 

We'll make our way to the rocky shores of South Georgia.

In an open boat.

We pitch our hopes."

Pretentious? Moi?

There is so much about my elevated prose that merits public ridicule. Perhaps you think I should hang my head in shame? These entries are not the typed ramblings of a literary wizard but of a garrulous parrot. I am aware that I frequently use words carelessly and, dare I say it, incorrectly. Please pocket your red pens and arrest your rolling eyeballs. They are not wanted here!

"It’s so easy to laugh,
It’s so easy to hate.
It takes guts to be gentle and kind."

I make no apologies. Without such brash declarations the world would be so much less colourful. Put plainly, my jejune words are symptomatic of my character.

Maybe you think I should try to emulate Hemingway? He knew how to write. He knew how to keep things simple. Really. Simple.
But It would hardly be convincing. It would hardly reflect Matthew Phillips.

Blogs serve as a gateway into an artist’s internal monologue. They are not carefully edited or scrutinised.
In short, they are not lyrics.

The present outburst took minutes to compose.
In contrast, I can toss and turn and sweat over a period of many weeks until I feel content with a single word in any given Kites track.

Now I must leave you. I have a dictionary I am desperately attempting to swallow!