Archive for November 3rd, 2016

…to die unsung would really bring you down
although wet eyes would never suit you
walk through no archetypal suicide to
die young is far too boring these days

Helmet -Unsung

Jeepers creepers! What the hell is going on here? Still brain damaged am I yet thy my brain bursts into overdrive all the time, crushing all opposition OTB effortlessly and frolicking with finesse. I put in a 2400 Elo performance last week even though it was only one day after my memory finally returned when some Faith No More was blaring out, animating me far too much to remain focused on my position as life was breathed back into me. Welcomed with open arms by the chess community at Heathrow upon my return home, instantly I played for my home town away to Northampton and the same thing happened again! But here is the so-very-strange-thing: in the opening and middle game my thought processes were under control but then they burst into a crescendo and blew my opponent away in the endgame AND I did not have to calculate anything or even look at the board!!!! HOW???? BAFFLING HUH????

your will to speak clearly
exposed too much
unsung once too often
could not rub off

Helmet -Unsung

I have not played OTB in 18 months so HOW ON EARTH IS THIS POSSIBLE? HOW CAN IT BE? It’s because so much endgame theory is hardwired into my brain, that’s why; being the custodian of a network myriad of causal connections that, impervious to dissonance, embody the quaint literature stacked upon my shelves so queenlike for so long, for now, and forever more. It’s the second game within a week and obeisant Fritz showed my endgame play to be perfect once more, although calculate anything at all I needed not! 🙂


I am white. Under the kosh, black plays 29. Qd8 in hope of a queen exchange, and perhaps aware should I play 30. Qxf7, he will draw by perpetual check. However, I played 30. Qxd8 instantaneously without even looking at the board. I didn’t need to because my King position is so advantageous and his kingside pawns are isolated. Play was as follows 30. …Qxd8 31. Kf4 Rg8? From this point on I focused more upon the non-verbal communication my team mates expressed than my own position -in fact I never looked at the board from this point on.


Black plays 34. … Rxe4 and can no longer stop freddy the f-pawn from queening…unless he sacrifices his rook! All of which I foresaw at move 30. Too easy. I played 35. Kxf6 but was more engrossed by ex-world champion Bobby Fischer’s assertion ‘I don’t believe in psychology, I believe in good moves!’, wondering why he contrasts them given that non-verbal communication embodies thought yet lacks intentionality. Rather dilettantish don’t you think psychologists?


41. Kg8 and black resigns. The crescendo continued on for hours more…my re-emergence always brings victory to the team. Even the league champions succumb to defeat when I am on the team sheet, as was the case last year. The drive home was as dark as we were jovial, happy to be reunited and victorious once more! And boy, were they happy to see me still alive!

By the way, my opponent was so polite and respectful after defeat, even though I turned down his offer of a draw when he saw I had gone into overdrive albeit unintentionally, perhaps certain his own servitude would soon be enforced.

And whose victory was it that brought Luton Chess Team victory? MINE!!!! And what colour were you wearing? ORANGE of course -after all I am from LUTON!!!!! And what did it feel like when you blundered about an hour into the game by looking directly above at the ceiling, causing that brain damaged head of yours to lose all balance? It felt a bit choppy, like I was on a small ship crossing a stormy sea, as if I was going to be thown overboard into the car park outside, I was panicking, moving from side to side WITHOUT PAUSE!!!! And how long did that last? Erm, about 20 seconds, maybe more, I had to fasten myself to my chair to steady MYSELF!!!! Well seafarer, as my folks used to say WHAT IN TARNATION?!?!?!?!


I also wore a football shirt. COYH!

You must follow the music in the video below in which the surge in power the music undergoes as the song progresses is analogous to my state of mind during play and its own crescendo. You will soon learn how feeling indomitable is applauded by those whose propinquity to the grim reaper who got his ass kicked only two weeks ago was both untimely and, presumably, unforgettable.

Your contribution left unnoticed some
association with an image
just credit time for showing up again
attention wandered I’m left with it

Helmet -Unsung

Marvel at those energy mounds building within the music by clicking below. The drumming @ the 3.06 mark is entirely in sync with my pulse just as I burst into overdrive.


That’s Helmet, en route to a county match in Peterborough back in 93 I spoke about them at length in the car. The driver -that being Steve Yates- frowned and thought at length over the steering wheel before telling me he knew ‘I like to listen to obscure bands’. Unsure of what his point was, I did not reply.

gone by sin too slowly
can’t pass it up
then i thought nothing is right
i turned it off

Helmet -Unsung

My endgame play has the same impetus as the music @ the 3.01 stage, which is the endgame of the track, but like chess itself, it is better to play through it from from start to finish -if you want to be blown off your feet that is! And when I say ‘blown off your feet’ I do mean ‘blown off your feet’ (that’s why I wrote it!)  -enjoy.

The brain damaged endgame expert McCready on the mend 2 Awestruck opponents almost lost for words 0 !

“A critique does not consist in saying that things aren’t good the way they are. It consists in seeing on just what type of assumptions, of familiar notions, of established and unexamined ways of thinking the accepted practices are based… To do criticism is to make harder those acts which are now too easy.”

Michael Foucault

Okay, if you thought things had got strange on this website lately, now they get even stranger. What is, even by my standards, right out there due to the very whacky American in it, in character. He gets so very strange towards the end, what on earth is he talking about???? Just look at how he loses it!!!! He offers us what must surely be the most deranged critique of 1990s America ever expressed! As I learnt in 92 whilst slumped in my chair and bored, that’s the sort of guy you don’t try to mimic, especially at the 2.52 mark -man that guy is right out there!!!!

Read Full Post »