Redemption BluesRedemption Blues






A leafy haven not far from Waffle Central



chameleonrattex at hotmail dot com


Strathtummel Archive

Borenich Burial Ground

Donald Dow of Tomantianda (1873 - 1958)

Strathtummel Gallery



May 2006

August 2007

August 2008

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

August 2009



Conquered by Farragon


Family Matters

Chameleon Weds!



Formal Portraits


Alison's Photos

Rory and Shelly's Wedding Album


Budapest Gallery


Housewarming Weekend (May 2008)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

May 2009


Ten Masterworks










Tiberian Sun

Red Alert 2

Yuri's Revenge


Tiberium Wars

Kane's Wrath


Narrow is the Way Which Leadeth Unto Redemption (Blues)

Masturbation kidney stent

Enema punishments

Boys shorts weals smooth legs

Ladies luxury panty girdles

Scaly skin on the eyelids

Dentures kissing sexy wearing

Poolside complaints women peeing

The douche nozzle fills her vagina

Discolouring of glans

Lipstick kisses all over his [?]

Satiated flies repulsed by banana

Sogginess of marijuana sprouts

"fairy rings" on grass caused by dog pee

penis bottle "stuck fast"

invisible stripes to hide double chin

white caterpillar, with wriggling hair when crawling, two brown hairs sticking up on the head

salt melts maggots

how to make a fake fish out of a plastic bottle and texters

my boyfriend would like to wear incontinence briefs

is it wise or even possible for Americans to insulate [sic] themselves and ignore what is happening beyond their boarders [sic]

can handcream oil hurt goldfish

will being a vegetarian cut out vaginal sweat

banana peppers active ingredients blood flow penis

do people try to nail there [sic] salves [sic] on wooden croses as a fake jesus

can you use rennies indigestion in dogs

pictures of strawberry cream dollop tattoos

Durkheim washed dishes in his bathtub

Are dogs' tongues cleaner than human tongues?

depth of water too high in toilet bowl washes testicles

lace curtain Irish are the ones who learned to piss in the sink when there weren't any dishes in the sink [!]

create the Crucifixion scene in a shoebox



The Author                       

Academic class traitor and sect-escapee with a sentimental streak ensconced in the comfort zone of civil servi-tude.

The Weblog

The title was suggested by a track from the Cocteau Twins album Heaven or Las Vegas (released in 1990).  In the chorus of I wear your ring, Elizabeth Fraser seemed to sing “Redemption Blues”, although I am not so convinced now that those are her exact words.

 Redemption Blues refers to the search for God and salvation (prior to my release from the baleful influence of religion through feminism and Émile Durkheim); my frantic search for a partner in order to comply with expectations and acquire status and my relationship with my lover (the melancholy at the mixed blessing of having obtained your heart’s desire).

Redemption Blues was conceived as an autobiography in fragments, but equally as a work in progress not easily reducible to any single (or simple) category. My hope is that Redemption Blues will eventually attain the status of a "blog" as opposed to a "good blog of the hour" to adopt and adapt John Ruskin's classification in Sesame and Lilies: "The good book of the hour, then (...) is simply the useful or pleasant talk of some person whom you cannot otherwise converse with, printed for you. Very useful often, telling you what you need to know; very pleasant often, as a sensible friend's present talk would be. These bright accounts of travels; good-humoured and witty discussions of question; lively or pathetic story-telling in the form of a novel; firm fact-telling, by the real agents concerned in the events of passing history; - all these books of the hour, multiplying among us as education becomes more general, are a peculiar possession of the present age: we ought to be entirely thankful for them, and entirely ashamed of ourselves if we make no good use of them. But we make the worst possible use if we allow them to usurp the place of true books: for, strictly speaking, they are not books at all, but merely letters or newspapers in good print. Our friend's letter may be delightful, or necessary, to-day: whether worth keeping or not, is to be considered. The newspaper may be entirely proper at breakfast time, but assuredly it is not reading for all day. So, though bound up in a volume, the long letter which gives you so pleasant an account of the inns, and roads, and weather, last year at such a place, or which tells you that amusing story, or gives you the real circumstances of such and such events, however valuable for occasional reference, may not be, in the real sense of the word, a 'book' at all, nor, in the real sense, to be 'read'. A book is essentially not a talking thing, but a written thing; and written, not with a view of mere communication, but of permanence. The book of talk is printed only because its author cannot speak to thousands of people at once; if he could, he would - the volume is mere multiplication of his voice (…) But a book is written, not to multiply the voice merely, not to carry it merely, but to perpetuate it. The author has something to say which he perceives to be true and useful, or helpfully beautiful. So far as he knows, no one has yet said it; so far as he knows, no one else can say it. He is bound to say it, clearly and melodiously if he may; clearly at all events. In the sum of his life he finds this to be the thing, or group of things, manifest to him; - this, the piece of true knowledge, or sight, which his share of sunshine and earth has permitted him to seize".

 As to whether readers admire or revile me, I take consolation from the scholar:

“Tastes differ so widely, and some people are so humourless, so uncharitable and so absurdly wrong-headed that one would probably do far better to relax and enjoy life than worry oneself to death trying to instruct or entertain a public which will only despise one’s efforts or at least feel no gratitude for them”

Thomas More, Utopia, 1516


Leaving comments illuminates the manuscript, a curlicue to adorn the page:

“Besides, some readers are so ungrateful that, even if they enjoy a book immensely, they don’t feel any affection for the author.  They’re like rude guests who after a splendid dinner-party go home stuffed with food, without saying a word of thanks to their host”

Thomas More, Utopia, 1516


Chameleon Caught on Camera