I went with a few friends to a contemporary music concert last night. Given that I was surprised to find I liked contemporary theatre last week, I was fairly optimistic, and went with an open mind. To be fair, there were some quite good musicians there, playing some good music. But there were other things which were simply bizarre, and I can only describe them as noise.

I have a pretty broad sense of what I define as art: it has two criteria – art must either be aesthetically pleasing, or say something. In other words, it must engage the observer on some level. Last nights performance, unlike those of last week, did neither. The Mcshow.com was a comment on the dehumanising properties of popular culture; the art of corruption was a comment on the nature of art itself. They were both funny too. Last night’s…thing…held neither a message nor amusement. Most of it was simply the incessant making of noise for the sake of it, it seemed. Either that or taking themes from pre-written pieces and adding noise to them, which is kind of like me taking a line from Shakespeare and scribbling on it.. I’m sorry, but I just did not like it, but thiss, of course, is just my opinion. It was certainly experimental, and experimentation should always e encouraged.

I just read this fascinating overview of the portrayal of disability in three short stories. To be honest, I haven’t looked into this field too deeply, although I maintain that the more disabled people are portrayed in literature and art, the better. I must agree with Norlie’s conclusions: for the most part, we are portrayed accurately in lit, but there are some blinding oversimplifications and uses of stereotype out there. I’d want to see more of the former, and less of the latter. Go read.

I recently heard of this site – it’s the site of a woman in Baghdad, and is highly critical of the occupation. She seems to have the ability to look at things from both an internal and external perspective, making he a very good analyst.

The blog is, however, anonymous, meaning this blog could be written by anyone. This woman could be an ex-Ba’thist for all we know, writing to heighten criticism of the Americans. Indeed, for all you guys know, my blog might be written by a tame monkey which some guy called matt keeps as a pet and feeds squirrels to. Nevertheless, this blog is very well written, and allows one to glimpse what is truly happening in Iraq. It is also up for BBC four’s Samuel Johnson prize for non fiction

No monkeys, tame or otherwise, were hurt in making this entry.

Does anyone else think this is a non-issue? We all knew Blair was going to resign before the next election. Indeed, logic decreed it – he knows he’s losing popularity, even if he doesn’t admit it, and he knows too that, if he hands over to brown, labour have a better chance of winning the next election. Even I can see that, and have noted it here before.

So why are the press now in a tizzy just because Blair said something in Australia? He didn’t even say much. I don’t get it, and, frankly, was far more amused when I saw dame Edna taking the piss out of the Americans.

It’s becoming increasingly rare that me, mark and Luke are together. We’re all students of one stripe or another, each at different universities, so it’s often six months or a year between instances when we are together. They are both down for the weekend, and we are together in the house where we grew up.

They’re both musicians. Mark is quite a good pianist, as, it seems, is Luke. After we got in from a walk, this afternoon, Luke was tinkling on the piano, making up tunes and playing things from memory. He went through his favourites, and mine too, but he suddenly broke into a tune I have not heard in ages. Before my brothers left for uni, they sometimes played a duet together: Chopsticks, a quirky, happy melody, which has lots of room for embellishments. Luke was playing the higher notes, simply tinkling distractedly. Then, spontaneously, mark came and started to play the harmony, and the house was suddenly filled with a tune it had not heard in nigh on six years. It was quite beautiful.

These days, I am happier than ever, going to pub quizzes and partying most of the night with friends I would like to keep in touch with my whole life, yet that cannot beat the moment when mark and Luke played together once more. Beautiful.

yesterday my uncle forwarded me the following. Thanks uncle aki!

Sign seen in Washington, DC.

“Would someone please give him a blow job so we can impeach him.”

I went to the campus theatre again last night. Contemporary arts students certainly have strange imaginations. This time I saw ‘the McShow.com’, a comment on commercialisation and globalisation. However, the message of the piece was not as clear as it had been with ‘the art of corruption’: I found it a far more vague piece, where the actors said seemingly random things.

There were, however, a couple of very good performances: Maria portrayed her pregnant, loud scally girl to perfection (‘If we do it again I can have twins, yeah?’) and Pete played a very good wise man, who seemed lost in this collection of misfits.

Maria: I’m bleeding now! Pete: then we have a situation

Maria: what situation?

Pete: situation is, baby is coming.

Trust me, it was very funny. However, I must note that one guy was portraying a ‘junkie’, but this junkie seemed like he had CP. Many of his movements were highly reminiscent of someone with cerebral palsy, most notably the way in which he held his hands was very CP-esque. While this did not offend me per se, I have to raise an eyebrow over the confusion between junkies and people with CP; I am sure this could not have been a coincidence.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed myself very much last night, and have been invited to tonight’s wrap party. It promises to be one hell of a night; I just hope I can get up in the morning.

I am often put off by contemporary theatre; I find it vague and elitist. What the creators are trying to say is often unclear which puts me off. However the piece I saw last night was different. I went because many of my friends were in it, but I found it had a sense of both self awareness it commented on art itself, whilst being a piece of art. It said all art can be corrupted while it was corrupted itself; as if to say, all art is bullshit. Whilst being bullshit itself, I therefore found it likeable because it said something. although I was disturbed by some of the imagery, I found it very enjoyable on the whole.

I’ve finally got round to blogging the election now all the fun is over. MMU just elected it’s new student representatives, although it must be said that it was quite a farcical affair. At one stage, comparisons with the events of Florida in 2001 were being made, as there were reports of the online voting system going down, and candidates putting extreme pressures on voters. I was just itching for someone to use the phrase dimpled or hanging chad. I got fed up with the whole affair when it appeared that the favourite candidate was being investigated on an obviously trumped up charge, and made a petition. I got about 50 people to sign.

In the end, however, this was not necessary, as Robert got elected. He was obviously the favourite as he is practically everybody’s friend, but I got outraged that he, of all people was being investigated. Anyway,, all’s well that ends well, and he should be an excellent union officer.

it appears that I have found something that I simply must go see. While looking for the postcode of my college, I found the wikipedia entry for Alsager, where I noticed something unexpected. There are barrows near alsager. Monoliths thousands of years old! now I just want to go explore! who knows what one may find

Wow!

I do not have much to report today. It’s my birthday, and I’m in seventh heaven. It is perhaps testimony o my geekiness that I’m so happy about my presents: namely, Blue planet and the final season of enterprise. This means that after I get bored exploring this planet, I can explore others. However, after four hours in front of the

TV, that’s enough probably Attenborough and archer for now. [insert squeal of joy here]

Yesterday, while I was eating dinner in the wes, I caught sight of a Newsround report about the childline awards. Needless to say, I was quite uninterested until I saw a familiar face – or rather, two familiar faces. For his work as a role model, Beth had nominated Toby Hewson for an award. It was quite a surprise to see them both on telly, and I pointed it out to bill.

This award couldn’t have gone to a nicer guy. Great stuff.

link.

It now seems it’s all going pear-shaped for Tony Blair. I really think he suffered irreparable damage last night when he had to rely on Tory votes to get his education bill through. Surely this is a sign of a prime minister in his death throes.

Mind you, I am still voting labour. Cameron, for all his ‘nice guy’ image, is still a Tory, and is also anti-inclusion. This latter fact means I most definitely cannot vote for him, although I use that example as a metonym too.. It also leads me to strongly suspect that his ‘nice guy’ image is just that – an image. Beneath that Gilderoy Lockhart smile is still a Tory who believes in segregation, among many other foolish things. My one fear apropos politics today is that people will be taken in by this new charismatic Tory leader after looking at the sinking ship that the Blair government has become.

Thus I hope Blair resigns soon. Labour needs a new leader to defend against Cameron. Someone with charisma enough to win back voters, as I don’t think they realise a Tory with a nice smile is still a Tory.

I went to the alsager arms last night, and although we did not win, I was very amused. Our winning the last two weeks seems to have caused quite a stir with the locals: about mid-evening, Steve informed me that the barman had asked if my lightwriter was connected to the net. Obviously some people had suspected me of cheating. While it is worth noting that some modern VOCAs do indeed have internet and Bluetooth connections, my lightwriter (which my friends, btw, have taken to calling Colin) is not that sophisticated. Moreover, Switch is now banned from picking the key. I suspect the locals are starting to eye us students with great suspicion.

After we won £350 in the last two weeks, is it any wonder why? Me and Colin are very amused by it all.

This one will be a moan. I really am pissed off over something that occurred at lunchtime: I got the ‘it’s such a shame’ treatment from one of the kitchen staff. Basically he told Esther that it was a pity about me and apparently ‘he’s very clever’. He then proceeded to try to wipe my mouth without my permission. This, of course, was in full view of most of my friends (who mercifully paid no attention). It was nevertheless embarrassing. Do I look like I am 5? I came within a hare’s breath of losing my rag and attempting to decapitate this sod. It’s just so humiliating. People assume I’m stupid.

But, as Margaret Atwood wrote, ‘Context is all’. I read this morning of how medical experiments done to disabled kids in institutions. See this, for instance. The poor kid must have been in agony. While I must admit I am pro animal testing, opening me up to accusations of hypocrisy, I believe this must, if at all possible, be replaced with other means, and experiments such as those described in this article should never be carried out. So, wile I maintain it is my right to be deeply affronted by this guy, I must remind myself that there are far far darker things.

This morning we watched ‘Alphaville’, it is a film by Jean-Luc Godard, and my tutor said it is a good film. I think however, that is only because it is in French, were it in English not directed by Godard, I would have been undoubtedly forgotten. It has the plot of a particularly bad B-movie. It is highly derivative and although there were some interesting shots, most of the shooting made no sense. What were the flashing E = mc2 signs about? Also, there was poetry inserted which seemed to serve no purpose other than to be pretentious. I know I’m probably being a luddite, but this movie really did suck.

Yesterday, Luke – having come home on the frankly dubious premise that he wanted to avoid having to go out Friday night – showed me this web-animation. Now, I know that such animation is unusually very odd, but this is odder than most; especially given the reason for it’s creation.

Esther just emailed this stuff on bond. We are both big bond fans: she says I got her into it, and sometimes I wonder what I have started. Anyway, casino royale looks good; I especially like the concept of taking bond back to his roots, and I find the prospect of having him fallible interesting. It looks like the ambiance and mise-en-scene of this movie should me more rugged, less fantasy-like, which might take the franchise in a new direction. Something to look forward to.

Thanks Esther!

Why uni doesn’t organise any more open mic nights I do not know. There was one last night in brandies, and it ruled. I never had more fun. The quality of the music was good, and the group of friends I belong to were all there. Most notable was a rendition of ‘Black horse and the cherry tree’, which is one of the coolest, sassiest songs ever written, and my friend Richard (a person way too cool for brandies) and his mates played some Santana tracks, which rocked…like…totally!

Probably the highlight of the evening, and the coolest thing I have seen in a long time, came at the end when Steve got up and sang a version of ‘Sweet home Alabama.’ Steve didn’t have the words, so the song was simply ‘sweet home Alsager / where the weather’s always shit’, repeated over and over. This isn’t the point though: that tune rocked. There was a shithot guitarist; the bass guitar rocked. Basically it all ruled.

I decided today to get together with Chris and Steve in order to lay down some lyrics to ‘sweet home Alsager’. Chris is, it must be said, a great lyric writer, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

God I love university. It is a disgrace that, because of the failures of the special school system, so few fellow disabled people get to go.

further to the scandal about the ending of the CAP (and scandal it is) I just got this quite terrific email from home. whether It’ll achieve anything remains to be seen

[quote=”dad”]Matthew,

You have had a letter from Ann Winterton [mp for conleton] to say that she has signed the early day motion on Scope’s campaign, and she will contact you as soon as there is more information.

Love

Dad

[/quote] sometimes i like it when my parents open my mail. hmmm…

Lightning, it seems, can strike twice. Rather incredibly, last night’s pub quiz had exactly the same result as last week. We won, for the second week in a row. This week the jackpot was £100, which, divided between the 6 of us, means I should be £16.66 better off, but the barman, rather dodgily, said he was not authorised to give us the cash. We should get it a week on Friday, when the landlord returns from holiday.

Whether we’ll ever see this money, I’m not sure, but I can’t believe our luck. Steve and Chris say I am lucky, but I just find it all highly amusing.

There has been wide press coverage of this story about a baby with spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), who doctors say should be allowed to die because he has no ‘quality of life’. Says who!? Such statements piss me off, as surely the only person qualified to speak on the quality of one’s life is oneself. Many people would say that, because I have CP, I have less quality of life – they would be wrong. I love my life. Because this child has nothing to compare it with, he may well love his life too.

I risk here being accused of aligning myself with right wing pro-lifers, but I think I am remaining liberal in saying his infant should be kept alive. It is more right wing, in my opinion, in saying he should be allowed to die just because he does not conform to what some people think is a quality life.

The fact remains we have no way of determining what this child feels, and thus he should be given the benefit of the doubt.

It seems I might – just might – have spoken too soon. I mourned the passing of star trek last night, but it may not be dead. Shatner is writing a pilot episode to the sixth incarnation. it might suck, but star trek is far from dead, it seems. go here. moreover, I read yesterday that richard branson has decided on a name for his first commercial space ship. what else could he call it but Enterprise.

Television, at it’s best, can inspire. I find the nature shows David Attenborough presents very inspirational, and the travel shows of Michael Palin, because they remind me of how tremendously beautiful our planet is, from wide, deep seas to the great mountains, shouldered by cloud.

Yet our planet, circling an uninteresting star, will be only one in one hundred million planets. These we cannot reach yet, but humans have this tremendous capacity to imagine. Until we can exceed the speed of light we will not be able to explore the heavens, so we must be content with our imagination. This too has the capacity to inspire.

Such imaginings inspire me. Since I was five or six, I have been an avid fan of star trek. All my family were. Star trek night was the only night we ate dinner in front of thee TV. I’m not sure what, but something within The Next generation caught my attention profoundly – perhaps it was the promise of the future where man settled his petty differences and worked as one to better himself, to peruse science, to explore. I was held captive by the stories of Jean-Luc Picard as he explored the stars; Benjamin Sisco as he fought the dominion; Kathryn Janeway [nauseatingly stupid though she was] and Jonathan Archer, the last and first of the captains. And then there is James T. Kirk, who I know mostly through the films yet who I loved also. These five captains, with their five series, combined to make an epic future history which has inspired millions.

It has brought myself, personally, so much joy. I rank First Contact among my favourite films, and the Ahab scene is my favourite scene in all of cinema (but don’t tell my film lecturer). I loved the epic battle scenes of the latter half of DS9. I love how Kirk and Picard fought together in generations. The list goes on, but, in short, the whole Trek cycle – the films and TV programmes – have brought me so much joy: they have inspired me.

On clear nights, I look up at the stars. They are beautiful. I remark that one day we will travel among them, but that certainty is born of hope. This hope is, in turn, gleamed from star trek, and each time I look up I hear the theme tune to next generation. Yet this certainty comforts me.

Tonight I watched the last episode of enterprise. It ended with the very birth of the federation, bringing star trek full circle. Thus my pleasant dream ends, and I cannot help but feel sad. I cannot believe there will be no more – it has brought me so much hope, so much fun, like the times I spent talking about ds9 to Andy Fox, who was an avid trekkie.

The last episode ends with a montage of the three main enterprise ships – NX-01, NCC 1701 and NCC 1701 D – and their captains – Kirk, Picard and Archer taking turns to recite the following immortal lines:

‘Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her ongoing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”

Not a bad ending, but now we must make sure it comes true. As captain Picard once said: ‘Let’s see what’s out there.’

I know those of you who care probably have already visited the site, but I would like to point you in the direction of the ‘planet earth’ website. The pop-up window strikes me as particularly impressive in terms of technical achievement – you can whiz round the earth, which spins as a graphic, and click on certain sites for the video footage recorded there. Well, it’s exciting to me.

Yes, I know I’m sad!

In our modern era letters have become emails, and the yearly letters I remember my aunt sending from Brazil at Christmas are now supplemented by weekly emails. These letters my aunt sends to my grandmother, mother, uncles and cousins have a metaphysical smell – they reek of oranges and melons and cupuacou and everything my aunt sells in her shop.

Today, her weekly email was on the kitchen table. My father had printed it off, and had left it for me to read. It goes out to all the family. This week, aunt Toula describes watching carnival on TV from Rio, and the harvest from my uncle’s farm, and the sun beating down on the roof of the shop. It is snowing outside, and it’s about freezing, but the email conjured up images to me of the wider world. Although my essay, printed from the same printer just hours earlier, did not smell, reading the email I could detect the faint aroma of oranges and couprasou.

I thought I would bring you up to speed on my recent intellectual exploits. I suspect some of you get the impression that I come to university to drink and do pub quizzes; this is not so. I only do that in the evening – the day is for work.

I have begun writing my end-of-year film essay. It’s 2500 words, so I began it early. It is fascinating work. So far, I have set myself up in two, largely paradoxical, positions: I state that film has a grammar, which, if broken, would render a filmic text unreadable. However, I cite Metz in saying that film cannot be seen to constitute a language, as the shot-as-word analogy breaks down under analysis. What, then, is this thing with a grammar but is not a language? This is where I left my essay last night, having used up 1600 words already. I used to fear large word counts, but now 2500 does not seem enough.

Time to go look up protolanguages!

This morning, I woke up with a huge smile and a small hangover. No, I haven’t slept with anyone, but this was almost as cool. Last night, I went to the alsager arms pub quiz – my first ever pub quiz. My mates usually go, and I asked yesterday if I could join them. They said yes.

There were about 9 of us. I didn’t have much hope of winning, and treated it as just a bit of fun. Mostly, the questions were on celebrities, soaps and sport, which I know nothing of, but there were some general knowledge. I answered that the Yangtze flowed through china, and bamboo was the tallest grass, so I was pleased I could contribute.

This is especially pleasing given that our group won by one point! When that was announced, we all erupted. Cool or what? However, we then had a choice: either we could take away the prize of a vat of beer, or gamble for £250. we chose to gable.

This meant that one of us had to select a key from 7 in a bag, only one of which could open a safe. Switch did the choosing, and selected a key. At first, all seemed lost: the barman, a consummate showman, made it seem like the key wouldn’t fit. I turned away: oh well, I thought, remember what Kipling wrote.

Just then, my friends erupted for the second time. I turned back to see the box open! We had won, and the money was ours! It was the coolest thing ever! Then there was nothing left to do but to return to our table to divide the cash. I am, this morning, £27 better off.

Beer then flowed. We felt rich. I asked Steve if I should go with them again next Tuesday. He answered that he would kill me if I didn’t, or something to that effect! I had an excellent evening, and will certainly go again.

Now to go spend the winnings!