For a while now I’ve been trying to define what ‘we’ are. What is the disabled community? On the face of it, we are nothing but a random set of individuals with some odd physical quirks. Often we have nothing in common at all. By all rights, therefore, there should be no ‘us’ at all, and yet there is – emphatically there is. There needs to be in order for us to survive, to achieve equality. We have a thriving community, a strong social network, a profound sense of kindred. Last week I thought this might be politically dangerous in terms of ostracising our selves, but I just realised that it is something deeper than politics.

Perhaps it is belief. Not in any theological sense. It is a belief in ourselves and each other; a belief that, united, we can solve our problems; a belief that, no matter what our differences may be, we are just as good as ANYONE, and that we should have the same rights as anyone It is also a desire to display that belief, and be proud of who you are, and not to have to hide it away. Some people wear crucifixes, for they are not afraid, nor should they be. It just adds to the diversity of the world. People of different faiths live side by side in harmony more often than not; they seldom ostracise each other, or shouldn’t do And, as with any other religion, I feel some people go to greater extremes than others. Should we ban Islam for the actions of al qa’ida? Of course not. Religion can be a force for good or evil; illogical though it may be, it brings out the best in people. the cistine chapel is testimony not to the glory of god, but the glory of man. You may not be able to see what we believe in, or define it, but it is there. It is a belief in ourselves and the community. It gives us hope, courage,, and strength. And I am a convert.

I resent strongly the insinuation I have been recently getting from some quarters that I am politically nave when it comes to disability. I don’t think I am; I simply reject certain dogmas in the disabled community. Dogmas like the position that the disability rights movement is simply akin to the gay or black rights movement. It isn’t. disabled people are not hated in the way that black people once were, and gay people sometimes still are. By and large, once people get to know ‘us’, all prejudice goes – that is to say, it isn’t innate but stems from a lack of knowledge. This is why I reject this talk of ‘fighting’ and ‘counter attacks’. We simply need to open peoples eyes – to show them, in the end, that we are just the same as they are, with similar hopes dreams and aspirations as everyone else. With the right adaptations, we are just as capable as anyone else. It is my experience that people are more than willing to listen, and thereafter to adapt,, once we explain our views and needs. I’d argue that it wasn’t the hotheads in Dan that won us our freedoms, as much a growing general consensus that we have just as much of a fight to ride busses than anyone else. We need to explain, not argue or fight, for the latter will only ostracise us further.

The fact remains, despite all my witterings this week, that some people want disability represented in second life. While I reserve the right to criticise that attitude, and perhaps point out certain criticisms I have vis–vis pride and the way some of ‘us’ seem to shove their disabilities down peoples throats, the fact remains that some people do it simply to represent their selves. They do it apolitically, just to represent their selves. In other words, there are political and non-political reasons for the appearance of disability in second life; it is only when it goes too far, and becomes too political, that I object to it. For example, some people have tried to replicate having tourettes in s.l (you can guess how) in the online disability equivalent of blacking up. Some have stepped beyond representation in s.l into political agitationism. As I have maintained all week, it is the latter, not the former, which I object to.

Either way, the fact remains people do it. People have started to write about it, academically. I don’t think it can be ignored. Indeed, look at what people said about film back in 1895, or the net in 1985. online cultures need looking into. How do people chose to represent themselves? What is the relationship between this and other traditional media, like film? Does this, in a way, relate to cinephilia in our relation to the screen?

Ok. I’ll shut up about this soon.

Some of my readers will probably be bored of me going on about this, but I reserve my right to use my blog as an online prefrontal lobe. While I believe political agitationism for its own sake will only exacerbate problems for disabled people, there is something to be said for political activism. After all, how else can the problems we face be solved? While many problems have been solved over the past half century, we still face one or two biggies. Special schools, for instance.

The problem is, where do we draw the line? I still say that we shouldn’t draw attention to our disabilities for specifically political motives: to do so would be crass exhibitionism which will only divide us further from society and increase prejudice. For example, some members of DAN make a point of making a fuss of every small infraction of etiquette, and draw more attention to their disability than perhaps they should. What’s the point? Under no circumstances should people try to hide their disability, but some people take it too far by deliberately highlighting it. The problem is, where to draw the line? I know we live in a diverse community, and that is worth celebrating, but when taken to an extreme, the overt refusal to conform becomes counterproductive.

Now I know a little about nonconformity. How can society ever change if we all adhere to the strict codes and mores that it imposes upon us? Sometimes, stirring shit up is what is needed – we need people to walk across campuses in zentai suits, go to discos as fairies, and to have disabled characters in second life. You cant make an omelette without breaking eggs (or in my case, saucepans, cups and whatever else is in the kitchen). Everything – gender, ability, everything – is just a grand narrative to be reread. The question is how do we do this without causing more problems than it solves?

With my own activity, the buck stops with me. I don’t care if people think I’m a freak; I think it’s cool. It also has nothing to do with disability, so people aren’t likely to generalise: this cripple is a transvestic freak, therefore all disabled people are freaks’. Hence my sort of nonconformism is benign; it might even be productive in the way it breaks stereotypes. On the other hand, inasmuch as A) they are in a way meant to represent all disabled people, and B) centre their (rather more direct) nonconformism around their disabilities, their activities, it seems to me, are more likely to impact negatively on the wider disabled community. it seems to me that organisations such as Dan break eggs for the sake of it. By being so loud, obtuse, so ‘in your face’, they only ostracise the wider community. They may want omelette just as I do, but think it should be made by cracking eggs with a sledgehammer, and cooking the damn thing with a rocket engine. The result, I fear, is a few broken eggs amid the wreckage of the kitchen. Such direct, forceful action, such nonconformity without thought, seems to me to cause more problems than it solves.

Tonight I’m having a rant. Certain parties from within the disabled community – whom I chose not to name – have opted to label me as something of a traitor to disability rights and politics in my rejection of disability pride. Needless to say, I profoundly disagree with them. My point over the last few blogs was simply this: given that the disabled are such a disparate group, why should we be proud for the sake of it? Is there not a contradiction in the way we seek equality with all other people, yet continue to ostracise ourselves by adopting a politics of ‘us and them’? we demand to be treated the same as everyone else while some of us deliberately draw attention to what sets us apart for political reasons. We have adopted the ‘social model’ which states that we are all just as ‘normal’ as anyone else, and that if various societal and environmental factors were overcome we would be able to flourish, yet, in the name of ‘pride’ or whatever, we brand ourselves as different. Why is it that when I point this out that some people brand me a traitor, accuse me of hating disabled kids, and refute my right to be a role model for Onevoice?

For the record, I do not hate anyone; my work with Onevoice makes me extremely proud – proud of myself, my fellow role models and the young people, not of some loosely affiliated group. I’m proud because 1voice actually makes a difference by showing the kids they have true potential. People should be proud of their selves, their achievements, of their friends and family, not some loosely affiliated group which we are, in a way, striving to disband.

Does nobody else see the irony in maintaining a pride in disability alone, while striving to be seen on the same ‘level’ as all other people. the difference between this and other subcultures is, in a way we are trying to irradiate it by simply being seen as ‘normal’. What’s so wrong in suggesting that?

It was exactly a year ago that I was in Newquay. That was a hell of a few days. I really miss those guys, you know – of course, I still see them every now aand then but not as much as I’d like. You know how much I relish te chance to go to Chester to see Charlie, or down to stoke to see Scott and becs. Problem is, the rest of the crew are so far away. Oh well, it’s just a case of getting organised and going to see them all. Joe comes home from the southern hemisphere soon, and I need to organise getting to his homecoming.

These days, most of my friends arre able-bodied. This isn’t surprising since most people at uni are AB, and that was my first real chance to make friends. I think this has effected my attitude towards the idea of a disabled community or subculture. Back at school, I firmly believed that we were a subculture – a subset of humanity. But as I mixed my friends became more diverse, of course. I still have friends who are disabled – Katie, james, Luke barbs etc – but whether one has a disability or not should be irrelevant. Usually belonging to a subculture effects one’s friendship groups. This isn’t the case with disability, and that’s another reason why I think the whole idea of a disabled subculture is dubious. While there are advantages in shating experiences and advice, thinking of disabled people as one separate group is frankly wrong.

There is something I would like to clarify briefly tonight. On Sunday, I showed how the idea of pride may be problematic, and I still maintain that I have no more or no less cause to be proud than anyone else, disabled or not. However, I’d still maintain that there is an ‘us’ – that all disabled people, while not being a subculture per se, have between them a network. We share certain experiences; we have struggles which we can only overcome together. The old refrain holds true: united we stand, divided we fall. In a perfect would, where all obstacles are removed to equality (from stairs to special schools) there would be no need for this culture, as we would all exist on the same ‘level’ as anyone else. With the right adoptions, and under the right circumstances, we would not be ‘disabled people’, but just ‘people’.

Mind you, I still think there will always be a need for Onevoice. To me, such institutions exist outside of these arguments. Regardless of whether we are a subculture or not, and outside of all arguments over pride, those kids need role models. After all, that applies to any kid, disabled or not. In a way, 1voice isn’t about disability pride or conunity, but showing kids that they have just as much potential, just as much of a right to be proud of theirselves as anyone else.

things have got way too heaavy around here the last couple of days, so in the light of last wednesday’s performance, and it’s subsequent brilliant result (you’ll have to ask charlie) I’m sending you here

I do not think I’m being traitorous in writing this, and nor do I think I’m erring from the social model as I understand it. While I am totally comfortable with being disabled, and at times it’s very cool indeed, there are naturally times when I whish I could change things. I’d love to be able to drive, for instance, as it would make going to see friends easier. Mind you, there are ways around this, so I’m not complaining. I like being me, and I’m proud of it.

To every problem there is, conveniently, a solution. I cant walk far, so I have a wheelchair; I can’t talk clearly so I have a lightwriter (called Colin). I therefore exist in the world upon the same level as anyone else, neither inferior nor superior. I’m perfectly happy with this state of affairs,

However, I’ve been thinking recently about this pride jazz, and now think that disability pride is not as simple as it would first appear. I’m proud of who I am – of my achievements, my degree, my work with one voice etc. I’m proud of my family – mark’s doctorate, Luke’s degree etc. I’m proud of my friends – Charlie’s work as a teacher and her performance on Wednesday; Emma’s work as a councillor for school kids; Kate’s work in drama; steves adventures in America. But, if I’m no different to anyone else, why should I draw pride from the fact that I am disabled? I did not choose or earn it. It’s part of who I am, and its mostly fun, but why should I e any more proud than a non-disabled person given that the playing field is being levelled off by the adaptations I need. Should non-disabled people not be equally proud of who they are?

This brings me on to ‘the cultural model, about which I wrote a while ago. I am no longer happy with that concept: I still ” like being Matt, the guy who zooms round campus in a chair; matt who uses that odd contraption in the wes” and so forth, but given that any human being is different from any other, why should I be any more proud than anyone else? Yes, my chair is cool, but so is the ability to run. This would render the need for a cultural model moot. The only need for it is to enable one to internalise difference, which is ultimately divisive and self-destructive. In other words, I have better things to focus on than the fact that I am disabled. For the disability rights movement to adopt a cultural model would mean putting up barriers to the rest of society, and truly taking up an ‘us and them’ position. In short, it would be the very antithesis of inclusion. The concept that one should be proud of disability just because one is disabled feeds the concept that one is different in terms of value. I may do things slightly differently to most people, bur why should this in and of itself give rise to pride? All human beings can and should be proud of their selves. If we are all equal, our pride in the disabled community should be extended to pride in all of humanity.

We now return to yesterday’s subject of second life. It is a game where anyone can be anyone, so why should people chose to appear disabled? After all, it’s programming cannot replicate the effects of disability, and indeed all people on second life are given superhuman abilities, such as flying. You could argue that it is pride in being disabled, but surely then this would show a severe lack of imagination: why not chose to be someone else? Why not experiment? In a truly level playing field, why chose to be different? Why segregate yourself, especially when we are striving for inclusion? It does nothing but maintain division and prejudice, rather than breaking them down. In second life, I’d be a seventeen year old gymnast, not a 25 year old guy with cp. This does not mean I want to change in real life, just that I’d let my imagination roam. Plus, this way there’s a better chance of barriers breaking down if and when my fellow players discover who I really am, instead of maintaining that barrier within the game (cheers Luke).

Similarly, I have heard that several people in the disabled community have chosen to accent their disability, to make it more visible. Now, there’s a difference between not trying to hide a disability, and deliberately drawing attention to it and highlighting it. I am not ashamed of the fact I have cerebral palsy, so I make no attempt at hiding it. It’s just part of who I am. But I think to deliberately draw attention to it, again under the excuse of ‘disability pride is counterproductive. It is one thing to make no attempt to hide your disability, quite another to draw attention to it. The former is celebrating diversity, the latter is ramming it down peoples throats in a misguided attempt at political agitation. I freely admit I may be accused of doing this myself with my cross-dressing, and sometimes joke about it ‘giving people a real excuse to stare’, but the truth is this is just one semi-political motive for my dressing. I dress more for comfort, for fun and other things than for the sake of disability politics. It’s true it highlights difference, but its also true that many non-disabled men dress too. Thus the two are different. To deliberately draw attention to disability in the name of ‘pride’, as a cultural model would do, as some do in s.l and reality, rather than simply letting people notice it in the background, raises more barriers than it breaks down.

I rather like clubs. They’re fun. Some of my favourite memories have concerned clubs, such as the club we went to after graduation, or the clubs in Newquay. They may not be everyone’s cup of tea, and sometimes I’d rather stay home, but when you go with a load of your friends, and you’re all dressed up, there’s nothing greater.

Perhaps I have a secondary motive for going clubbing, too. As a disabled person, I want to live as normal a life as possible, participating in as much as possible. Moreover, I think it important that people see me do this – how would people realise that we crips can be as reckless and carefree as anyone else? Simply to stay at home wouldn’t just be boring, it would be perpetuating a negative stereotype of disability. At the same time, people shouldn’t think me brave for going out – it’s just normal. Having said that, I think that my presence in a club would have the effect of breaking down stereotypes; certainly, one or two of my uni friends have told me how I helped change their minds upon issues relating to disability. I reckon our presence anywhere, clubs, pubs, university bars, would break down barriers. What’s more, we shouldn’t hide who we are – to try to hide dribble and uncontrolled movement would defeat the object, as would not dressing how you want. I say if people can’t tolerate a spastic in a fairy costume, fuck them. Note the fairy costume is just my personal addition.

Now, I’ve been hearing a lot about ‘Second Life’ recently. This is an online world which I suppose is akin to the Sims, but where every sim is controlled by a person behind a computer. It’s apparently serious business, with real money exchanges. Interestingly, very interestingly, disability exists in this world. Why shouldn’t it? People want to portray themselves, be themselves in second life; why shouldn’t it be as diverse as the real world? It’s great, isn’t it?

I’m not completely sure it is so brilliant though. Yes, second life should be as diverse as reality, but, paradoxically, that might be reinforcing negative stereotypes. That is to say, I’m not sure that you can argue that disability portrayal in the s.l is equivalent to disability portrayal in the real world, as some people have. This is because the s.l portrayal of disability is simply an avatar in a chair, albeit a stylish one. To me, this is not the grand breaking down of barriers as some seem to think it is: given that only the photo* can show the Lacanian real, only it can truly reflect reality on screen. In other words, in order to get to grips with the reality of disability in an artistic framework, you need to use film. Yes, it can be described linguistically, and I’ve seen it done so with panache, but to me, only the photo can re-present reality.

Hence, in terms of breaking down stereotypes and barriers to do with disability, something like s.l could be counterproductive inasmuch as they present a sanitised, cut down version of crippledom. An avatar is not a photograph, but a computer-generated facsimile; it therefore does not dribble, or grunt, or have uncontrolled movement. The point is that, while I have no objection to people with disabilities using second life, I really do not think that one can draw parallels between my clubbing experiences (that is, physical, real events, which of course arent exclusive to me) and the appearance of disability in second life. On top of the fact that disability in s.l is sanitises, there is still the fact of the barrier – users remain at home behind their computers. There is no actual physical contact, which in a way means that stereotypes are in fact reinforced. Hence, to hail the appearance of disability in second life as some momentous, brave step, I think is wrong. At the end of the day, s.l is peopled by users behind their computers, for the barriers to break down, there must be actual physical contact or accurate portrayal. In second life, you have neither. Moreover the fact the fact that users are innately separated, kept at home, may even help perpetuate the negative stereotype pf the ‘stay at home’ cripple. It may be good fun, but, in terms of disability portrayal and rights, it is nothing compared to actually going out, physically participating,, and having a great time with your friends.

*Here I’m using a Barthesian perspective.

When I was about four or five, I remember my parents sitting me in front of an old bbc computer. It had a big black screen, and a huge white extended keyboard. I remember being struck by the stupidity of this keyboard – why did it have letters jumbled up, and not abc? Anyway, after I had figured out this stupid keyboard (before that, mum had been making me boards with pictures to press) I figured out how to write stories. Doing so seemed to please my parents.

Thus it was on an old bbc computer that I first learned to express myself. Looking back, the bbc isn’t much more than a tin can, especially compared to today’s sophisticated machines, but it stood me in good stead. It taught me that odd arrangement of letters that I still use today with my lightwriter and pc. In a way, I owe it quite a bit. It’s creators are apparently reuniting in the London’s science museum to celebrate it. I wonder if they realise what impact their creation really had.

link

Mrs Jones just dropped me off at home, albeit a little later than planned. Initially I had planned to be back around noon, but events conspired against that – we were late up, Mrs j had work to do, I lost track of time talking to my friends. I should have phoned. Sorry dad.

Anyway I had great fun last night. Charlotte invited me to see a production of Moulin rouge at the school she now teaches at, so reluctant to disappoint my friend, I went. The performance was quite amazing: Charlie teaches music, and was in charge of the music. As I saw last year with gospel choir, Charlie seems to have the ability to get a tune out of anyone, and she proved that again last night. Mind you, poppy, C’s younger sister, in the role of satine, is an excellent singer, as was the male lead. Hell, it was all very Impressive – they even had a working model of a red windmill. Moreover, I learned today that Charlie, armed only with the piano music, had transposed the entire score by ear. Her industriousness and productivity put me to shame.

I always like going to the burrow, as I call it. Its so homely, so welcoming. It’s the type of place you don’t want to leave,, and I almost took Mrs j up on her offer to stay another night. Charlotte’s generosity is almost infinite, a trait I think she definitely inherited.

either way, I’m glad I went, and certainly hope my next visit isn’t too far off. Going there, to that crazy laberynthine house makes me feel good about the world

I think dad was rather annoyed by my choice to watch casino royale this afternoon. Out of all the films I got today, it being the momentous occasion of my birthday, I chose to see something I have already seen. Well, what can I say? I love that movie, and really enjoyed it this afternoon. Bond is always good fun.

This evening should be nice: the spaggy bog is cooking, the ale is chilling, and I think I just heard mum get home. Tomorrow I’m off to Chester for an evening in the most excellent company of the jonses. Life, I say again, is good.

Great.. I think I’ve overestimated my wordcount, or counted things twice, or something, because today about 4000 words dropped off my wordcount. Oh bugger. Keep fluctuatng between despair and the thought that its not too bad. I suppose it isn’t – just a little deflating.

Anyway, moving swiftly on, Cameron is to back late abortions for babies with minor disabilities. Whateveer one may feel about abortions, to abort a child simply because it has a disability is counter to modern civilisation itself.

So. CaMoron, it seems, has decided to go with the family. How lovely! Great idea: a good family is the basis for a good society. Wonderful, Mr CaMoron will solve all our ills by ensuring we all have good upbringings in good families.

Oh come on! Just how retarded can you get? Yes, we would all like to live in the good stable environs of a middle class family, but many families aren’t like that people aren’t like that. The family, if you look at the sociological research, can be destructive, brutal, leaving women and children open to abuse. The traditional view of the family is sexist – women are supposed to be housewives, men the breadwinners. Moreover, times have changed since the 1890s – many people don’t want to be held down by family units; it makes society more fkexible annd dynamic. Thus, for all his display of ‘forward thinking’, CaMoron has once again showed himself for be an outdated anachronism. Compassionate conservatism – what bullshit?

I go home today for easter. As I say, I’ve only spent one night at my parents house since Christmas, and the little kid who used to burst into tears at the prospect of one night away from his parents seems long gone. Uni has given me freedoms I’ve never felt before – some say I’m cloistered, and there’s a modicum of truth to that, but I’d have been much more cloistered had I simply stayed at home with my parents and commuted here every day. University is not the world, but it’s a taste of it, and I’m hungry for more.

I have nothing against football, as a game. Kicking a ball about with your mates or brothers can be rather fun, and I have happy memories of doing just that. But lately I’ve been brooding over football culture: the idea that it is more than just a game, that somehow football is linked with masculinity. I dislike the concept that, to be a man, one must like football; I dislike how many people seem to think it’s the be all and end all, and how they think to be able to play football well is a sign of manliness and superiority. It’s just a game, for fucks sake, and a comparatively simple one at that. Personally, I find cricket far superior to watch. As that needs a modicum of intelligence to play. Yet European male society, for the most part, seems obsessed with football.

Here on campus, we have the MMU football Academy, where 20 young laads in red uniforms are taught to play football. I don’t see the point. Surely these lads should be back in school or college learning about something more valuable to themselves and society than how to kick a ball about a field. Leave football to free time. Yet they obviously think that football is the be-all and end-all; that they are so manly, so clever, just because they can kick a ball into a net. For me, the cerebral will always outrank the physical: it is far better, I say, to contribute to society through artistic creation or scholarly research than by trying to assert one’s masculinity through kicking a ball about. After all, where does that leave me? I have no football skills whatsoever, so am I, to them, somehow inferior or less of a ‘man’. The whole of this football culture thus seems somewhat fascist in the way that it prises athleticism and ability. So what if you can kick a ball? It just means you can’t find anything more constructive to do.

I was just in the wes for breakfast. Three or four of these boys in red jackets came in. they’re all no more than eighteen, and on some kind of BTEC or HND. They started to play poker, right there at the table. Now, there’s nothing wrong with a friendly game of cards, but this was for money. I suspect that this, to them, was a display of how manly or adult they are. How vapid?

I suppose I just dislike the whole football as business side of things,, or football as masculine. To me, it is nothing more than a game, and I find those that treat it as anything more essentially vapid.

Well, that was pretty anticlimactic. A few days ago my friends were talking over dinner, and jen told me about the props department. It had come up because, that afternoon, I hadd gone over and borrowed a small desk lamp to use in a film I’d been making from the tekkies, who are in charge of props. Jen had described it as an alladins cave, full of cool stuff like guns and swords and tutus. So this afternoon I went over, looking forward and wondering what I might find.

Tony, my friend from last year, now works with the tekkies. I told him what I was doing, and what I wanted to see. He replied that, since I was no longer in the contemporary art department, I wasn’t allowed to borrow anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to let me look. The store is housed in the basement, so I had to get out of my chair and go down some rather steep stairs. Once there, I was unimpressed – it was just a lot of junk. I looked for the guns and swords, but there didn’t appear to be any. No tutus either. I felt rather cheated!

Meh. Seems the highlight of my day is a trip down some stairs. I need a break from uni.

I’m slowly starting to think about what I’m going to do after my master’s, and, putting my boredom with academia aside for the moment, ‘Dr Matt Goodsell’ has a certain ring to it. I’m still very interested in cinema, the ontology of the photographic image, and the contingent, but I’m becoming increasingly interested in how these things interplay with other art forms, like theatre. It seems that live theatre is based on the contingent, the live, so does it have its version of the punctum? With this in mind, and still letting my thesis rest, I went to a few ctp shows this morning.

They weren’t earth shattering, like the one I went to last night. They were okay on the aesthetic level. But at the last one something unusual happened. The audience had to stand on rostras (plinths or podiums). I knew this already, as I’d been warned, and indeed I’d been told beforehand I could still come in. but what got me rather angry was announcement made before the audience entered the space: ‘If anyone doesn’t want to stand on a rostra, please don’t come in..except for matt.’

Something about this really ticks me off. It’s the fact that it was announced in such a fashion. I’d been singled out in an effort to make a manifestly inaccessible performance appear inclusive. Frankly I was angry, and just a little insulted. I didn’t want to be an exception; nor did I want to see a show which was innately uninclusive. I was also upset by the manner by which it was announced. Their rather half-assed effort to accommodate me aside. I wanted no part of something so overtly and vehemently discriminatorily. In short, they could stuff their show, and thus I left.

I just came back from a performance in the black hole. Most of the theatre here is ‘contemporary – that is to say post-modern with very little meaningful (in the usual sense) dialogue. But what I saw this evening was a major exception: it was dialogue-driven, written by Mark revenhill, and indeed derived most of it’s power from the dialogue. Ravenhil has a keen cynicism: he illustrates exactly how countries which invade countries in the name of freedom and democracy can be as despotic as any. There are scenes of utter barbarity in the name of freedom – we have a series of short sketches, all shot through with the same disgust at the current state of world affairs. this felt edgy, highly political and angry.

Argh, its late and I can’t explain myself, but this was the best (and longest, and most powerful) bit of theatre I have seen on campus. It reminded me of the sheer power of art/

we brits may bbe ahead of the yanks in having a blind home secretary, but disaboom has today reported that new york is first blind [and black] governor. link

Mind you, this is only because the previous governor got caught in the middle of a prostitution ring

Maria cooked for us last night. We have started a regular ‘cookery’ night where, on Sunday afternoon, I pop over to sainsbury’s to get ingredients and Maria cooks for myself, jen, ash and Steve. It’s quite excellent and very civilised. Last night she did a dish from her native Portugal involving cabbage, bacon and sausage which was delicious. Anyway, at about half five or six llast night I popped over to emberton to eat.

I walked into the kitchen: ‘hi matt, wanna come to karaoke with us? Maria asked.

‘Okay.’ I said. This sounded fun. The plan originally was to get the 8.30 bus to Crewe, so we ate and then started to get ready. I popped back here to change – I wouldn’t usually change to go out, but my jumper was slightly mucky and I felt like dressing up. I dressed as quickly as possible (skirts with elasticised waistbands are a lot simpler to slip into than the tux I wore the previous night) and was back in emberton by about 8.20. yet by then the plan had changed: we were now getting a taxi to the club at about half 9. I didn’t mind as it gave us time to polish off a rioja we had started with dinner.

Ten O’clock saw us at the limelight in Crewe, where we met Lyn and Faithe. I was rather happy and loose. The singing started shortly after we started, and pretty much all of my friend put their name down to sing. It was then I had a crazy idea: why not? I asked jen to put my name down to sing ‘Nobody Does it better’. The fact that nobody would understand it didn’t matter – or maybe that would be the point.

As it happens, though, my name wasn’t called. I can only assume jen forgot to put my name down, or thought I was joking. If you ask me, it was the limelight’s loss:

what could be better than a spastic in a black skirt crooning ‘nobody does it, half as good as you. Baby you’re the best.’?

You know, ash millet makes an excellent martini.

Last night we held my birthday party on campus. It was a 007 themed party, and it was brilliant. Now, I know emberton north common room wouldn’t be bonds usual haunt, but you should have seen what my friends did with it! Silhouettes on the windows, and cool balloons with the 007 logo on them! As for myself, I felt a billion dollars in my suit – fresh white shirt, black bowtie, toy gun in my breast pocket. I felt like I was licensed to kill. Mind you, I gave up trying to come up with witty lines, and needless to say I didn’t try to imitate bonds misogyny, especially given most of the people there were women.

What else can I say other than it ruled! I had a great time, even though they insisted on playing ‘social’ drinking games, which commander bond would never do. Too crass. This could also explain why I don’t remember being put to bed.

Bond looked at the blue and white sign. ‘Manchester metropolitan university, alsager campus’. why in gods name had M sent him here? Apparently there was due to be a party held in emberton north common room, where certain monies were due to exchange hands. Hardly worth the attention of MI5, and yet as he walked past the performance studios, 007 had a funny feeling this was only the start of something…

the following may or may not become an appendix to my thesis, but I thought you guys might enjoy it. the thesis is going well, so today I decided to have some fun.

Taking as a starting point Godard’s remark about wanting to live films, and in an attempt to return to the process of creation, I have recently been working on recreation of films. As outlined in my piece on mimicry, I am in no way the first person to do this. There seems to be an abundance of such material on YouTube. It is as id the viewer is so taken by the film, that his cinephilia so absorbs him, that he tries to live the film himself. Admittedly this is merely the playing of games, but I would argue that this phenomenon and its relationship to cinephilia is worthy of explanation.

Perhaps the first thing to note is that this imitation is always done with an audience, it is a performance. This could be live, e.g. a throw away act made for ones friends, or towards a camera thereby emulating the very medium of fascination. The latter would render the performance permanent.

I therefore decided to try to recreate the famous James Bond ‘Gun Barrel’ Sequence. This was done using a small webcam in my room. Such sequences usually consist of a figure in a suit walking onto the screen from the right, turning, and shooting at the camera. The screen then turns red and the pre-title sequence starts. When this is over we see the opening titles which in most films, consists of brightly coloured women dancing amongst the credits. I wanted to achieve the same effect, but also to combine this with my interest in transgressing gender boundaries. I also wanted to make a homage to the Bond series. Moreover, I find it ironic to have both 007, a man renowned for is physical fitness and the typically beautiful dancing women, portrayed by a man with moderately severe athetoid cerebral palsy. After all, what could be more post-modern?

I started with a shot of me, in a suit, in silhouette, instantly turning and ‘shooting’ a toy gun at the camera. A still was taken from this image, and, using photo editing software, a black ring placed around it to replicate the gun barrel. thereafter, this image was paced and replaced in the sequence several times, each time with the background getting redder and then blacker, until the screen turns black. In the absence of funds to make an opening action sequence, we then fade up to a moving image if myself dancing against a blank background. Given that the women in the original credit sequence are shot in silhouette filled with colour, giving them a certain anonymity, I chose to dance in a green zentai to recreate this illusion. However, to maintain constant reference to bond, this shot was interspersed with still photographs taken from the original bond films. Throughout, ‘Nobody does it better’ by Carly Simon plays nondiagetically.

Is it me, or do I sense a slight tone of anti-intellectualism from the so-called disability bitch here?? She rants about hawking, it seems to me, for being focussed on his physics and not his disability. She writes to him: ” You have been so busy trying to unlock the mysteries of the universe that you have yet to devise a quick formula for filling in DWP application forms with minimum effort and maximum reward, or working out how we can all get into RADAR-locked loos with nothing but the power of our minds, or the precise tone of voice we should use to get Normies to relinquish priority seats when we get on a crowded bus.” So? Why do we as disabled people need to focus on our disabilities? The last time I did that I got bitter, so I focus on my interests in film and the arts. Before, I was first and foremost a cripple; today I am first and foremost a student who happens to also be a cripple. I say let the professor look into black holes. Personally, I find it much healthier than thinking ‘woe is me.”

I found something quite interesting out today. I was talking to lyn dodd, head of just about everything around here, today. She told me that they have a report book which she reads, part of which concerns brandies on Wednesday nights. They put anything unusual in there – which of the footballers got naked, who fought whom, etc etc. she told me that I’m in there too.

‘Why?’ I asked, fearing that I’d done something bad but forgotten.

‘It just says that you went’ said lyn. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Why should my entrance to brandies be noteworthy? What might this book say? ‘Matt the campus cripple came, got drunk, was taken home at eleven.’? I mean, with the amount of insanity which goes on on a Wednesday in there, it isn’t as if they don’t have anything better to write about. But, oh wait, I’m special!

I was just round the corner watching some of the destruction of Woodiwiss. Two great mechanical monsters with pincers are taking it apart, piece by piece. I’m still masculine enough to think the sight rather cool, and yet I’m also struck by the thought that this was, not long ago, a place where people lived. Like emberton and kellet, it echoes with cheers of frivolity, calls of excitement. In my first year here, the campus was at it’s zenith, full of students. Now all this is moving to Crewe, and in less than five years, alsager campus will be no more. I cannot help but feel desparately sad about it: I’ve had many happy days here, and many great nights. It is the site of my greatest triumph. On top of this, Crewe is a far less pretty campus: it is more compact, more claustrophobic. There’s also a dual carriageway by it. In short, it is downright ugly. The whole move is all wrong.

I suppose it doesn’t really matter, as I leave soon. Yet I cannot help but get angry about it.

It had been ages – literally over a decade – since I had heard tubular bells. It used to be a favourite of my father’s, and still is. I like it too, but had forgotten about it. We were driving back to alsager on Saturday, having been to see scott, becs and Vanessa for the afternoon; charlotte had classic fm on, but we were chatting and not listening to it, when I suddenly heard it. Not the full version, mind, for that takes an hour to play, but a cut down version of paul oakenfolds classic.

Dad used to play that track on Sunday mornings, sometimes, when I was little. The opening bars, as distinguishable as anything in music, always pleased me. I heard them, again, late Saturday afternoon in Charlie’s car, and instantly I was in two places at once. I was again, crawling on the floor of the front room at Hampshire close, aged 5, but also in a car with two of my best friends. Hence two very joyful times were united by one piece of music, one phrase, repeated.

You know, tubular bells now seems even more dear than it was now. Its such a great, mysterious piece. Funny how music can do that.

Its been a hell of a weekend, and…by god this place is a mess. Friday night I was staring to worry nobody was going to show up, where we were all meeting etc, when jen popped me a line saying everyone was descending on my place imminently. Then suddenly everyone was here. Well, Emma, becs, Scott, ness and, of course, charlotte. You can probably guess what happened there – it involved alcohol, and lots of it. They decided to change in and around my room, using it as a base for the night. The plan was that they would return after brandies to collect their stuff. Poorly on my part, I drank too fast and was very drunk by ten, so true to her old form and with her trademark ‘oh no’, charlotte put me to bed. Problem was, everyone wanted their stuff, so at 1am there came a huge banging on my door.

Needless to say, the next day I was quite hangover, but was able to go for lunch in the plough with Emma and charlotte, thence to becs and Scott’s in burslem. We spent the afternoon chatting, then came back to campus. C dropped me off at mine to go get ready. There was something of a cock-up here, as c told me switch and Nicky were coming to mine 15 mins later, but they weren’t. anyway, when charlotte returned, she fed me a shop-bought sandwich, got me girlified, and we set off to a social in Kellet. This time, I decided to pace myself, and, with the help of red bull I lasted till about 1, talking, dancing etc.

At time of writing, charlotte will be heading home, but later today I should be meeting switch, Nicky, rocky and Emma for lunch. It has gone too quickly, and I’ll miss them even more because of it. And yet I doubt very much that it’ll be the last I’ll see of my old crew.