this new direction for my m.a might not be so good. I’ve been looking for my favourite moments in star trek movies – I’ve yet to find the bit with ‘row row row your boat’ tho – but what I just found is this. It is genius and almost has me falling off my chair with laughter!

You guys will like this. well, it amuses me, anyway. Highly. I had a meeting with my supervisor/tutor yesterday: he seems very pleased with my progress, and yesterday I finally conceded film was a language, although unlike human language, which may have had a bearing on his mood. Anyway, we began discussing the location of my own cinephilia, and, since we were in Alan’s office, I asked him to call up the scene from first contact on youtube. Alan’s own masters was on Moby dick, so I thought he might like it. Well, we watched it, and then Alan said ‘why don’t you do part of your thesis on the cinephilia connected with star trek?’ after I had determined he wasn’t joking, I grew increasingly excited, and after the meeting headed straight for the library. Now, the question is, where to begin? I know where to begin – by rewatching the star trek films (only the films, mind – for my purposes the TV series are irrelevant). But where then? Which sweet should I eat first, now I’ve been gifted the sweet shop?

Woohoo. This is gonna rule!

It should, I hope, be obvious to anyone with more than two working brain cells that this hubbub about Tories paying backhanders to their offspring is indicative of the conservative mind frame. People who adhere to that outdated worldview care only for themselves, and not about people who elected them. Moreover, the way in which CaMoron is defending Derek Conway, while attacking labour MPs for doing less shows that, rather than being the whiter-than-white nice guy he is so desperately trying to present himself as, he’s just as corrupt and arrogant as the rest of his imbecilic party. When will people learn to ignore this bunch of twats known as Tories?

I’m rather missing the defiant atm, leading me to scour youtube for wheelchair-related items. Having to use my manual chair as a trolly sucks. subsequently, this video has given me a few ideas – I especially like the idea of a tray-mounted computer, maybe with inbuilt sat nav…sweet but keep that ‘westwood’ fool away from me!

Charlie just dropped me off at uni after my semi-weekend at hers, so I’m knackered. The Jones household is the bright, cheerful place I left it. We went to the birthday party of one of their neighbours last night, hosted in one of the oldest houses in Chester. Needless to say, my intention not to drink too much was quickly forgotten after a sip of a very good Australian red. I spent the evening talking to the joneses and their friends and doing a bit of dancing.

This morning I went to church with Mrs. Jones. I realised I had never been to an English church, and so I asked if I could tag along. It was a very interesting experience, but I’m afraid to say I’m still a confirmed atheist.

So, it seems my fears over losing touch with people are unfounded. What’s more, old boys is just around the corner, and then we have Paris to organise. You know, friends like mine – like Charlie and her family – make the world a brighter place.

I have about four things to say in this blog entry, so bear with me. First, my hit count exceeded 200,000 last night. Woohoo. People have wanted to see what I have to say 200,000 times. It’s a strange thought really, because mostly I write piffle. Well, I try to keep it relevant most of the time, but sometimes the temptation just to fish for something on youtube gets too much.

Second, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed ash’s performance last night. I found it intriguing, and the actual thing was definitely better than the rehearsal. I fear I slated it a bit too much yesterday. Esther and I came up with a cunning plan yesterday: we only stayed for the lecture and skipped the screening. This way, Est didn’t have to get back from alsager to her home in Crewe too late – I am loathe to make a girl walk home alone in the dead of night. This way, she wouldn’t have got home too late, and I got to see ash’s piece and the lecture, which, as it turned out, was most valuable. Ashley performed brilliantly, except for one slight hiccup with a costume change. Also, it wasn’t the turgid thing I had expected, but actually quite funny. I think I had misread it, too: it was about potential and choice rather than deem and gloom. I had initially dismissed it as a tea party, but in retrospect her inclusion of tea was a nice touch given the audience had to stand (or in my case sit) outside.

Talking of parties, my friend charlotte has invited me to a party at hers tomorrow. It’ll be good to see her. Mind you, I’m yet to clear this with my parents, but it’s something to look forward to. To think that I complained on here once that I didn’t have a social life; these days I sometimes think I have too much of one. c says it’s a smart affair, and I’ll need my suit, which sounds cool. She also says I might b able to have a martini!

And speaking of martinis (notice the nice segway there) the title of the new bond film will be Quantum of Solace, which is typically cryptic. It doesn’t seem a day ago since Tony and charlotte took me to see casino royale, but the next offering in the bond franchise is out at the end of the year. I really like Daniel Craig, I must say he is, in my opinion, the best since Sean Connery, and much more akin to the heartless bastard of the original Fleming novels. I adore the ending of casino royale, which in my opinion qualifies as a cinephiliac moment – a moment in a film of pure joy, where the viewer is pricked (to borrow a term from Roland Barthes) Anyway, I better start my day. It seems I have quite a bit to look forward to, and therefore enough to write about here for another 100,000 hits.

Whenever something breaks I get mildly depressed. I suppose its worse when my lightwriter breaks, but my chair is now out of action for a while. Dad says, quite wisely, that it is probably best that I don’t use it until it is fixed. This makes this afternoon awkward, however, as I need my chair to get home after my late lecture on Thursday. Esther just leaves me at the bus stop in Crewe, and I get myself home. Therefore I’m considering bunking off this afternoon’s lecture and working on my thesis. Given I haven’t skived in three and a half years, its about time I did so. Its not actually skiving, anyway. I’ll see what Est says; she has a nasty way of talking me out of such things.

It’s ash’s performance tonight. She allowed me to view the final rehearsal on Tuesday, since I was going to be away later, and still might be. Its called the art of suicide, and comes, as you can probably tell, from quite a dark place – a place where I was about 5 years ago; somewhere I left behind and do not whish to return. Its kind of bitter, yet sickly sweet; kind of an obsession with an aesthetic of death. Don’t get me wrong, back then I wasn’t suicidal, just bitter and cynical. I think Ash’s piece tonight comes from this place, which is why I’m interested in it. Mind you part of me is angered by it: what is the point of such a piece? To me, it kind of glorifies it, kind of wallows in self pity; makes suicide seem something other than it actually is. Keep thinking of my friends who aren’t here any more; I counted during the rehearsal – 5, in all, from my class at school. It seems to throw away a life is a waste, a retreat. As I see it, life is too good a party to leave early. Mind you, I can only pass judgement really if I see the full thing tonight.

I’ll let you know what happens tomorrow.

Well, I’m back in one piece. Those DVDs have been waiting for me to change them for ages. the hard part was choosing their replacements. It took me well over half an hour to decide!

I’d like to have been able to say that my trip went without a hitch. It did, until it was time to get off the bus at alsager. I accelerated too fast and bashed my footplate on a small post. I need a new footplate – there’s a shop in Crewe which might do them, but I’ll see what dad says. If the driver had parked closer to the curb, or had got up off his arse to put the ramp out, everything would have been ok. I also have a nasty graze on my right leg.

Bugger.

After yesterday’s productivity, I’ve decided to go into Hanley today to change my DVDs. This will be an adventure for me, which is why I’m making this blog entry. After I print off a map, I’ll get the number twenty bus there and back. Should be back by mid afternoon. I’ll blog again before 7pm.

Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back by teatime.

Will someone tell me the difference why they are calling a sail a ‘kite’ here? I don’t care if it looks like a kite, as far as I’m concerned, it’s a sail, and I m very amused by it. We’ve had powered ships for about 200 years, but ironically we’re having to return to the ancient technologies in order to save the environment. Whatever next? Steam powered cars? Even better, horse drawn wheelchairs.

although there are many fan-made teasers out there, I think this one is for real. if so, it has a totally different mise-en-scene to any other vintage of trek. I think itss cool, but…mmm, somethings not quite trek about it. mind you, they said similar things about daniel craig as james bond, and look what happeened.

Its oout at christmas, so the cripple is issuing an order to his family – as is tradition, we are going to watch this film as a family. ok? mark and kat return from paris, luke from manchester or wherever. We can go as one family to the cinema. what do you say? Make it so

Bit of crip-related news tonight. Katie Thorpe, a teenager with cp, will not be having a hysterectomy. I think this is very good news, and a victory for disability rights and logic over what constitutes, in my opinion, narrow-mindedness and condescendation.

link

Far be it for me to relish in another person (or team’s) defeat, but I’m exceptionally pleased that someone has finally ended the Australian cricket team’s unbeaten streak. ‘India denied Australia a record 17th straight victory by dismissing them for 340 to win the third Test by 72 runs.’ Reads the bbc site. Hahaha. To be honest, while the Australian team impresses me, I think its bad for the game for one side to be too dominant or invincible. However, when I brought this subject up over lunch in the wes today, nobody seemed very interested. Mind you, two people at the table, ash and Steve, are American, and Maria is Portuguese, so cricket means very little to them. Grr.

Most people were recovering after a bit of a heavy night last night, too. I had fun, freezing my butt off in a dress. As I say, fuck knows why I do it – its a pain in the ass, but it draws me like a moth to a flame, and trying to explain it, even to myself, is like trying to explain cricket to Americans.

Tonight is the gangsta ball. Its organised by the student film society, so I’m definitely going. However, I thought putting tights on was hard till it came to these goddamn stockings. Why ddo I do this to myself?!

We’re just off out, but there’s just enough time to link to this story of a paralimpian called Oscar who wants to compete in the normal Olympics. The thing is he has been banned because he uses special springy prosthetics which allow him to run faster. Boo! I say, let him run! It’s high time we crips had some advantage over norms. Mind you, then I could compete in my electric wheelchair, which would be great fun until it comes tot the hurdles. Buzz….ouch…buzz…ouch…buzz…ouch…YAY

Today is interfaculty cup day. It’s been rather cool: did some reading this morning, and this afternoon I’ve been zooming around from sport to sport watching bits and bobs. I can’t believe that, in less than a year, they’re going to start tearing campus down – it’s quite a beautiful place, much better than the Crewe campus, which is small and ugly and far too dense. I met up with the dean earlier, on the touchline of the rugby pitch: I hadn’t seen him since graduation day, last summer, and was very curious about something. I asked him who got the loudest cheer, from where he was standing. He replied that, not only did I get the loudest cheer of my particular ceremony, I got the loudest cheer of them all! We then started to discuss my second graduation: to be honest, I’m in two minds about going. It won’t be the same. Anyway, a lot of water must pass under the bridge before then. In the meantime, my head is once again inflated.

Although its full of crappy Americanisms, like the horribly nauseating subtitle ‘live forward’, yesterday I came across a new social networking site called disaboom. While I have yet to fully explore it, the site, like Ouch, has many interesting articles and discussions to engage with, but, unlike ouch, is written from a non-u.k perspective, which, for me, gives it a novel quality. I look forward to investigating it. Besides, how can I resist a website with ‘boom’ in the title?

link

Today I found out about something odd called machinima: its where people use games platforms to create films. Short films have been made using quake 4, and more recently second life. At first I must admit I was revolted: it’s the project of the bored and geeky, who don’t have the first clue about making a film. But it then occurred to me that this is a democratisation of the filmic art: now all you need is a game like quake, and you can make a film. No more need for editing software or even cameras. No more need for actors, costumes and props. Film is now as accessible as writing, a prospect which fascinates me. I’ll certainly be looking into this more, perhaps even as part of my Masters.

Link to the wikipedea article on it

I was just in Crewe seeing a man about a fish. Needed to get some things from the shops; ash is cooking tonight and she needed eggs and oil. Trips to Crewe are now fairly routine: I know what I want, and go get it. I must admit I enjoy the change of scenery too.

This afternoon’s trip went well. The sun was out at last; Crewe town centre was crowded, and the bus home was packed. I feel that people treat me with a reasonable amount of dignity; the shop assistants were very helpful. Its all very pleasant.

Yet it was as I was wheeling back up hassall road that I passed three boys in hoodies. I was reasonably cheerful, minding my own business, when, as they passed, one said ‘spacker’. Why? Why did he say that? I wasn’t doing any harm. Why did he insult me for no reason. I hate such people: people who cling to outmoded stereotypes. People who think they’re being big. What puzzles me is why he said it. I don’t understand.

I fail to see whats so heroic about this. I’d have done no less. Only i’d have caught the fucker because of the superiority of brittissh wheelchairs over american ones. I feel the woman acted as any other person would have done. no doubt she felt victimiised and therefore angry,, but nevertheless part of me askss why is this so special?

yawn. back to late thursday lectures. knackering. anyway, ouch’s so called disability bitch has posted quite an interesting article on this incapacity benefit hokum. quite an interesting read from a slightly different perspective. Go here

I discovered this morning that, as a masters student, I can technically go to any lecture I want, which is certainly an amusing prospect. Over breakfast, jen invited me to one of their lessons. They were holding a ‘happening’ in ps1. those of my readers who took writers contexts last year will recall that happenings are related to fluxus – sort of events which are pieces of art in and of themselves. This ‘happening’ was a piece of nostalgia based on the sixties hippy movement. Everyone dressed up as a hippy and did stuff hippies did: burn joss sticks, read tarot card, listen to frank zappa etc. it was really cool. I got a bandanna put on my head.

Such happenings interest me: most other art forms can only be witnessed from one point. With film, we all ‘see’ the same picture; with literature we all read the same words. Yet this form of theatre is different. It is participated in rather than observed. Everyone has a different experience. There are no ‘units’ like shots or words, and therefore it cannot be created. In film, literature or photography, there is always a certain type of relationship between text/image and viewer. In such happenings, there is no viewer – they just happen. Thus this bypasses the Lacanian symbolic and renders itself ‘real’. I noticed the thing was being filmed, yet any such film is doomed to fall short, for it can only render the real in symbolic form, as a photograph can only be a symbol rather than it’s referent.

I thus find these things quite fascinating in relation to my own work. To what extent can films be considered real. What is the nature of the image in relation to reality? Why indeed do they draw us so?

short of anything more interesting happening today, I’ll just post a link to this. You don’t have to know german to understand that suspicions that bert andd ernie are two drug addled pill-heads. I find the fact they only have one eye most amusing.

Dad had radio four on as we drove to campus this morning. It may be uncool for people my age to admit to liking radio four, but I love it. It has great authority perhaps the greatest authority and gravitas of any radio station in Britain – yet can let its hair down on occasion. (Mornington crescent, anyone?). anyway, I was very amused to hear of the new Tory plan to cut down on benefit fraud. I mean, who are they trying to kid? Benefit is an urban straw man; I admit it’s a problem, but its nowhere near as widespread as people, especially those on the right, make it out to be. The benefit fraudster is a popular bogeyman, and nothing more. CaMoron might as well have promised to get rid of the grinch.

More seriously though, this has profound implications. The conservatives will make it much harder to claim incapacity benefit. This is hard enough already:

apparently, there have been cases of people having heart attacks during this process. Moreover, many people have hidden disabilities, such as arthritis or late onset m.d, which, while hard to verify, render one incapable of working.

If I was paranoid, I would say the Tories intend a war on disabled people. with their attitude towards inclusion, and now this, it certainly seems that way. The recent polls scare me. I just hope the country comes to it’s senses before it does something really stupid and turns back to the right.

Christmas is officially over: my parents are downstairs undecking the halls; my brothers returned to the places from whence they came yesterday; I go back to uni tomorrow. It was too short, and it’s kind of weird now the place is so quiet again. It has been one of the best Christmases ever – at one point, there were 13 people in the house, all laughing and cheering. That is not to say that it didn’t get irritating at times, but that’s natural.

I’m looking forward to 2008. 2007, save for one thing, was a particularly good year. Getting my degree is my greatest achievement, and thinking about it still makes me squeal with excitement. I still have much work to do for my masters, but despite doing virtually nothing towards it over Christmas, I’m still very enthusiastic about it: you cant write about cinephilia without being a cinephile. So, its back to work tomorrow.

Spring term is also the term of Old boys. My friends from my undergrad years will be coming up. I cant wait to see them, to see how they’re doing, to buy people drinks. I especially need a good natter to people like Emma, charlotte, Steve, Nicky etc. also, we have a trip to either Dublin or Paris to organise.

At the dawn of a new year, with the sun beating through my window,, and as I look at the pictures of my friends on my wall, its hard not to feel extremely optimistic about what lies ahead.

I was just watching bbc parliament. CaMoron was talking about education. I had to stop myself throwing something at the TV set; how anyone cam fall for the garbage he spouts is beyond belief. I mean, he spouts stuff about believing in equalled, but when you consider he’s anti-inclusion, you realise how hollow his words are. He goes on about opportunity for all, but in the same breath talks about streaming, which, almost by definition, means opportunity only for the few. For all his weasel-words, this is still a policy of segregation, unfairness, and, essentially, fascism. What is laughable is he’s giving this speech in a school, which he showers with praise, founded by labour in the last ten years. Even more laughably is he trots out policies remarkably like labour’s, then tries to pass them off as his own.

Only a cretin would be unable to tell how much of a fraud this man is.

This evening, we were just in Manchester for a meal. Mark and Kat go back to Paris on Saturday, so we went up to eat a curry with Luke. The food was, let us say, less than great, and I remembered why I prefer real ale to larger, but anyway…

I don’t usually take my lightwriter out when just with my family; part of me wants to, for the sake of my identity as a cripple, but as they all understand me I don’t usually bother. I therefore don’t speak much to anyone outside the family – none of us do, actually.. I suppose this is a throwback to my pre-uni days when I was shy and retiring.

The thing is, I am no longer shy. Thus, at one point, my beer needed pouring into my glass. Mark, who was sitting opposite, was chatting away. Therefore, I gesticulated to the waiter, pointed to my bottle of cobra, then, in an arching movement, the glass. I do not know bsl, and I doubt the waiter would have, but the sign was clear enough. He came, poured the so-called beer, and I thanked him.

My lightwriter would have been better for disability rights, but, sometimes, when you need a beer, gesturing works just as well.

I find quite some irony in this video of a school play. Dickens’ original story was not particularly good on cripple rights – I must admit to wanting to throttle tiny tim. The thought of any disabled person asking to be paraded so that people could be reminded ‘who made cripples walk and blind men see’ quite disgusts me. Indeed, we have come a long way from being spectacles of pity. Sure, I can make a spectacle of myself if I want, but I never want people to pity me. It’s quite amazing to see how far we’ve come since dickens’ time, but I fear we have even further yet to go.