Just for a change fro my usual inane waffle, today I’d like to just direct you to this intriguing bit of trans philosophy. I don’t often write about the subject, partly because I don’t feel I know enough about it, partly because part of me says it’s not really my area to talk about it. Yet the writer articulates things that have been whizzing around my brain for some time – there are no hard and fast boundaries, no fixed notions of black ad white, and, I suppose, nobody has the right to tell anyone what s or isn’t their area. It’s a great, well-written article – go read.

We have had quite a weekend: I went to bed early last night and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, not waking ’till about half nine this morning. I was so tired because we had been to a barbeque on Saturday and only got home yesterday afternoon, not that we had been on any Indiana Jones-esque adventures as a result of the barbeque, just that we had stayed too late to get back. Fortunately, it was at Dominic’s house, so Lyn and I were in excellent hands.

Rather less fortunate was the fact that we had to miss Chopper’s birthday party to go to it, a bash which by the sound of it had ruled. I do not regret going to the barbeque in any way, as I met many cool people there, but I have a feeling that, like my friends Steve and Chris at university, Chopper is one of those people particularly adept at throwing parties.

I have been hearing the word morality bandied about a lot recently; people on facebook and other places questioning whether it was moral for the NATO powers to have got involved in the conflict in Libya. This got me thinking: what is morality anyway? It occurs to me that it is quite a silly notion when you think about it. I came up with two main arguments why the term should not be used o back up any argument.

For starters, it is totally subjective. You can argue that just about anything is moral or has a moral bass. I’m sure, for example, that the Nazis claimed they ad a moral basis for committing mass murder. It is an arbitrary notion, set usually by a majority yet ignores the fact no rules ever apply universally. For example, most people believe it is morally wrong to kill, but what if the killing was done in self defence? The same goes with stealing, and I’m sure you can think of a great many other examples. People, especially those on the political right, seem awfully fond of trying to back up their arguments by claiming something is moral, but they forget how intellectually problematic that term is.

My second reservation about the concept of morality is that it completely ignores postmodernity. We live in postmodern times where there are no certainties any more, no hard and fast rules. In fact, I think the concept of morality is the very opposite of postmodernism, as it clings to the old binaries such as right and wrong, true and false which postmodernism swept away. The old grand narratives line religion, politics, even gender have been reread; when placed under scrutiny such concepts disappear; nothing can be said to be absolutely certain any more.

To hang on to an idea like morality, though, is to ignore all this as it maintains that something can be objectively right or objectively wrong, and that there are a set of arbitrary rules everyone should adhere to, rules usually imposed on others by a dominant culture in order to repress and subjugate. To resort to such a notion in an argument means one has refuse to engage intellectually with the necessary concepts; frankly, I think it betrays a certain arrogance, if not stupidity. It betrays an ignorance of the intellectual complexities at hand, which is why I am baffled that some people continue to use it.

Late yesterday afternoon I decided to go for a walk. It had been raining all day, during which time I had got on with some work, so decided to go out for a spot of fresh air. I often go round the corner to Chopper’s on such occasions, but I decided to go for an explore instead. I set off to a place called cherry orchard: this is just past Charlton, and is an area of blocks of flats. I thought I knew it reasonably well, but somehow yesterday I managed to get rather lost. I just couldn’t find the place I was aiming for – a church at the center of the complex.

When eventually I did find myself, about an hour later and having been almost as far as Greenwich, I decided to head home. I was still rather cheerful, as I knew a bit more of the local area. It’s strange, though, how quickly such a small thing can change one’s mood, for, on the way home, I passed a group of boys. they were teenagers, and as I passed them they began to shout insults and snicker. I know I should ignore such things and usually I would just have driven on, but as I once wrote here, I am proud of myself. I’m proud of who I am, what I’ve achieved; I’m proud of being Lyn’s partner, and of becoming a member of the community here in London. Every time kids jeer, it is as if to say ”We don’t know you, but you use a wheelchair, so you’re inferior to us, you’re nothing”. Well, I’m not nothing. I don’t know why but it really pisses me off these days.

I turned around to try to confront the kids . I got nothing but more laughter, so I decided to turn and come home. There was a time when I would have ignored it and kept going, and perhaps I should have done so yesterday, but I’ve had enough of being thought of as inferior by some snot-nosed kids who thin they’re so high and mighty because they can walk properly and kick a ball, but will probably amount to jack and have nothing better to do than hang around on street corners. It’s hard to explain why this gets me so angry; I suppose you have to experience such discrimination to know what I’m trying to say.

As a crip I should probably say something about Jody McIntyre. you may recall that he was the disabled man dragged from his chair during last yeas’ student protests. I just heard that the IPCC has partially upheld his complaint that the police acted unlawfully. Now, I know next to nothing about the specifics of the case; frankly, though, I find it very unlikely tat McIntyre was just sitting there minding his own business – he must have been doing something to agitate the police. After all, I was there earlier in the day and the cops didn’t harm me. Plus, from what I have seen of him, McIntyre does seem to have one of those provocative attitudes found in some crips. But none of this in any way excuses his treatment by the police; they manhandled him out of his chair, stripping him of his mobility. That is like breaking someone’s legs! This may sound like an exaggeration to some, but that metaphor should be taken in all seriousness. The police denied him of his right to mobility, and, no matter what the guy may have been doing, nobody ever deserves that. The fact that, although the complaint was upheld, the cop responsible for this callous act has not been punished apart from slap o the wrist, demonstrates how little the police, the ipcc and society in general think of disability rights.

I suppose I like comedy as much as anybody, and I can’t really come on here spouting bull about what a big comedy fan I am. I have no special interest in it, or knowledge of it – my background is in film and literature, after all. But I still have quite a big soft spot for things like Monty Python and Fawlty Towers, as I might have noted on here once or twice before, so tonight I feel I ought to send you here. Truth is I hadn’t really heard of John Howard Davies before tonight, but I know that tv and film arre art forms where one easily forgets about the people behind the camera, so I just thought I’d use my blog entry tonight to mark thee passing of a man partly responsible for making so many people laugh.

I had intended to go to bed early last night, as I didn’t sleep too well the night before, but after the news, Legends Of The Fall started playing. I’d only seen a bit of it before, so I thought I’d give it a viewing, and I’m happy to report that I was impressed. Granted, it may be nothing special in terms of the philosophy of film, buut in terms of watching a great story well told, with fascinating characters portrayed by outstanding actors, I doubt it can easily be beaten. The film is essentially about the american myth of the old west, populated by independent men with a deep resentment for the state; it’s also about brotherhood and family, so you can see how hese two things play to a specific american notion of itself. I went to bed pondering these myths, and how they may have a bearing on America’s attitude towards guns. Above all, I felt satisfied at having just watched a great film, and slept well, though it was punctuated by several gruesome dreams.

I’m just blogging to tell you all that I have now switched computer: I’m currently using Lyn’s old Mac, which we recovered from the thieves. It’s still much faster than my old pc though, which I think now needs a good old reformatting. I already quite like my new computer, although I must say Im having to squint at this blog entry as I type it, as I don’t yet know how to make stuff appear bigger. Anyway, I have much to explore; for one thing, I’m looking forward to using yootube without it going jerky. I’ll let you know how I get on in this brave new world of apple, but for now I am off to investigate.

This may be somewhat lazy blogging again, but tonight I want to draw your attention to this interview with Daniel Craig. The first clip on the page interests me the most, as in it, Craig discusses the difficulty of making a new bond film which does not quite take itself seriously – as bond films shouldn’t – yet is not a parody of the franchise. The problem, Craig points out, is the Austin powers films, which prevent any new bonds from moving in that direction; yet without the comic, at times camp element, Bond wouldn’t be completely Bond. For a cinephile like myself, it throws up a few rather interesting questions about a film’s relationship to others which are well worth pondering.

This afternoon I decided that it has been far too long since I did any creative writing, so I jotted down the following poem. No prizes for guessing who it’s about.

Herculean Creativity

She rolls her rollerball, an inch a time

Patiently placing notes on the score, Gradually composing. Generating sounds.

New, exotic, and yet rhythmic.

Meticulously making music, building up beats

Unruly hands fidgeting with effort and concentration.

It’s an Herculean effort of creativity;

Yet, every day she rolls back(wards) into her studio, and hours later there comes out a sublime beauty, the type of which I have never before heard or seen.

Lyn has been working on a new track, which can be found here. I really think this track is the best I have heard her create, which is why I don’t want to say much about it but let it ‘speak for itself’. It really is an impressive piece, and I’m very proud of my girlfriend. We’ll now start work on a video for it.

I heard on the news this morning that a man from Cheshire has been jailed for four years for using facebook to try to incite a riot. Now, is it me or does that sound like a very dangerous precedent? If you think about it, we must all now be much more careful about what we say on facebook, twitter, and on blogs. I’ve written on here before now about my hatred of David CaMoron; I may have even called for his assassination once or twice. Of course, I’d never seriously want the guy dead, but I’d claim I do to be provocative and as a display of my anger and frustration with him. Now, though, we can’t state such things for fear of risking a jail sentence. In effect, then, this judgement acts like a censor – we no longer have the ability to write entirely as we want to, but must now be careful that we don’t incite acts of violence, intentionally or otherwise. Thus this Tory government has began to erode our civil liberties, using the riots as an excuse. The riots may have worried us all, but the way in which they are now being used by the government is even more worrying.

The truth is I’m not in the mood to get myself into a frenzy about what CaMoron said today. He claims to offer explanations for recent events, and yet spouts the most simplistic, puerile arguments. He just want to pin the actions of the rioters down to the typical tory scapegoats of bad parents, single mums, and a lack of morals, whatever they are, without realising that the causes for the recent upheavals are far more complex. All I can say is, what an idiot. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so angry.

anyway, my reason for this entry is to link to a new blog about the Woolwich riots, which can be found here. They link to me, so returning the favour is the least I can do.

Yesterday saw the best night out I’ve had in a good long while. I’ve always wanted to go to a festival, and now I have, if only for one evening. We went to canary wharf jazz festival. To be honest it was Dominic’s idea. But he always seems to have brilliant ideas like that.

At first, of course, I didn’t know what to expect; I was rather expecting to hear some old-style jazz music, the type you hear in places like new Orleans. Instead, wart I found was more modern, but still very, very cool. We saw the last two groups of the night, and I was especially taken by The Herbaliser, the headline act. For some reason they reminded me of The cat empire, so I’ll definitely be looking them up.

Listening to the funky music last night in Canada square, surrounded by people, and looking up at the skyscrapers around us, I remember thinking: ”This is what London is really about”. A glance at the list of upcoming events told me that there are many more gigs to go to, many more nights out to be had. In the last week the image of London has become an image of a looter and a thug, but that isn’t it’s true face – the true image of london is the image I saw last night – an image of people coming together, listening to music, and having a great time.

I just saw something incredible, and I don’t just mean england winning the cricket. i decided to take a walk to Woolwich this afternoon, to take a proper look at the damage there. What I saw was really quite life affirming. on the boards outside the burned out pub, people were writing messages. I don’t just mean graffiti – someone had apparently used his twitter account to set it up, first obtaining permission from the police. People from all walks of life are just coming, picking up a marker pen, and having their say. In a way it was a reaction to the violence, a statement from the comunity to the rioters that they can’t win. yet it s a also a forum, a place for people the vent their anger yet also to offer explaintions. While the fire was a manifestation of people s anger in the lacanian real, in a way that wall fuctions to translate that manifestation, as well as our collective reaction to it, in to the symbolic.

Yesterday I was out and about with my friend chopper. I go out with him quite a bit – he seems to like my company, claiming I help him calm down. Although some of his views are rather too right wing for my liking, I like him too. Going around with him helps me to see the more authentic side of south London – chopper seems to know everyone in the area, and seems very well respected. Mind you, I can’t help but wonder what people think when they see him pushing me along in my chair, or whether it damages his reputation as one of the hardest men about.

Anyway, yesterday we were in Woolwich. You may recall that Woolwich was one of the areas affected by the recent riots, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. There is a Weatherspoons pub where we had the occasional pint, which was burned to a cinder; there is nothing left of it but a blackened wreck. More striking, though, was a building half way along the high street which had totally collapsed – you could see right through it. You could tell it was a really old building, as a Victorian fireplace had been exposed; it was like seeing a burned corpse stripped of life. Rather eerily, you could also see blackened books on a shelf, still clinging to a wall. I really was taken by that sight, and I suspect it will stay with me for a long while.

I’m still not sure what all this means, but aster seeing what I saw yesterday, I really hope the riots are now over.

I just want to use this blog entry to commemorate the thirtieth birthday of my brother mark. Did I just write that? Can my big bro really be thirty? It does not seem two weeks since we were playing ‘war of the rooms’ back in Cheshire, but now Mark has become a great man of science, bound for Cern, married to a most excellent woman in Kat. I am truly proud of my brother, and seeing him these last couple of weeks, after so long apart, has made me realise how lucky I am to have him as a sibling. Happy birthday bro!

Yesterday I said that the current uprisings in our cities had no purpose behind them, save the urge to wreck and steal. That may well be the case, but it begs the question, what gives rise to that urge. According to the prime minister, it is a question of a lack of morals and a decent upbringing in some people; in other words, CaMoron thinks the problem stems from the fact that not everyone is like him. How stupid? Seriously, how is this numpty leading the country? As pointed out far more eloquently here, the problem is far more complicated, stemming from the disenfranchisement of young urban men, lack of education and jobs, the cutting of services, and a general discontent with the status quo. While these riots are not overtly political, they are caused by the actions of this government. That is why I was appalled to see Michael gove trying to pretend that the government had nothing to do with this problem on Newsnight, arrogantly ridiculing tedsa Jowell for suggesting that the problem was far more complex than sheer thuggery. We really do not need people this stupid, who see such problems in such simplistic terms, running the country at times like these.

Let me begin this entry by issuing something of a retraction: I once stated on here that I did not recognise David CaMoron as Prime Minister. Of course, the truth is I do; whether I like it or not, he was more or less democratically elected to lead a coalition government, and I will not do anything to alter that. I still fully intend to rant and rave on my blog against him though, and that is as it should be. People have a right to peaceful protest, be that going on marches, writing nasty blog entries, or producing other forms of art, but some sort of order must prevail.

That is why I am so frightened about the recent violence in our cities: there is no order to it, no reason behind it. A political protest I can understand, but the uprisings in London and other cities seem to be mere acts of violence and burglary. Of course, there must be something behind it – some underlying discontent in certain sections of society. To dismiss this violence as mere thuggery is too simplistic, which is why part of me suspects we’re only getting one side of the story from our politicians and our media. Yet the way in which these acts seem to have no purpose behind them, save the urge to wreck and steal, and seem to be brutal and random, petrifies me.

Although I daresay I had rather too much champagne on Saturday evening, later today we will most certainly be cracking open another bottle. The police came round earlier and dropped Lyn’s stolen mac off. She is examining it as I write. I must admit that, when it was first taken, I did not have much hope of ever seeing it again I’ve experienced such a thing once before, when my Lightwriter was stolen, and that episode taught me not to get my hopes up. But I had not factored in the tenacity of Lyn Levett.

Looking back, it’s quite an incredible story, really. I helped Lyn buy a new computer to replace the old one. Using that, she realised that the old computer was still logging on to her network, and was able to see what the guy who had it was doing. She made a film about it and put it on youtube in the hope of getting help finding it. With a little help from my friend Becca, this was brought to the attention of a reporter from channel Four. But then the trail went cold, until a few weeks ago when the Mac appeared back on her network. Lyn and my brother Luke were then able to track it down to an address in Manchester, we told the police, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The story has ended very happily indeed. Words cannot describe how grateful I am to Luke, Becca, and everyone else who got involved, nor how proud I am of Lyn. She never gave up. I can’t help thinking what an awesome film this might one day make. You know, I think I’ll email that guy from channel for again, and then start work on the screenplay.

My list of the best meals of my life now has another addition. I know I said that one could only decide such things in retrospect, but sometimes you just know you’re eating an amazing meal. Yesterday I was sat, with Lyn, in the hall of Balliol College, Oxford, surrounded by a great many of my family, huge portraits of people like Asquith hanging on the walls, and I just thought ‘wow’.

We were there to celebrate the wedding of my cousin Christina to Tom. It was, like Mark and Kat’s wedding, an incredible day: the buildings around us were awesome, the service was touching, and although we’re related I have to say Chris looked beautiful. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house.

Not wanting the hastle of having two weekends away in a row, we had decided to go to oxford and back in a day, so we couldn’t stay to the bitter end. It’s a shame, as I don’t know when I will see my extended family again, and I don’t think I said bye to all of them. Oh well, I’ll just have to engineer an excuse to get everyone together again.

I was watching channel four news last night, and a writer of a famous right-wing blog was on there claiming that mainstream politics and media does not reflect the views off the majority. According to him, the majority of people in this country oppose stuff like immigration and our ties with Europe, and support capital punishment. I’ve come across this arrogant point of view before, and would like to address it. There is no silent right-wing majority whose views are being somehow suppressed in the mainstream. Mainstream politics and media is liberal (with a small L) because the vast majority of people in this country are liberal and tolerant people, although, to be fair, you could debate which is the cause and which is the effect. By and large, however, although we could at this point get all bogged down in Marx, I think it fair to say mainstream politics must reflect majority views simply because that is how people vote. many in the right-wing blogsphere delude themselves into thinking they represent a majority viewpoint, when, in fact, they represent the views of a tiny minority of numpties who make the rest of us feel embarrassed. Their views aren’t mainstream because, thank the FSM, the rest of us have thought about the issues at hand and realised how philosophically barren such views are.

Sometimes writing a blog can give you an inflated sense of self importance, and you think that, because people read your entries, people like and agree with what you say. Blogging gives one a sense of power. I know my blog is probably only read by my friends and family – who else would want to read my inane rantings? – but in some, their hitcount goes up so quickly, and they get such supportive comments from the idiots who read the fascist crap they write, that they convince themselves that they are right. In fact, the rest of us can see that what they spout is bull, and, after reading a couple of entries just for a laugh, disregard such writing as the illogical, ill-thought-through dross it is. Thus there is no silent, repressed, right-wing minority, only a bunch of idiots whose views the rest of us see as shallow, illogical and intolerant.

I hate it when these blogger-types talk so much bollocks.

I love the internet. Like most cripples these days, I could barely survive without my computer or the Internet. It’s how I keep in touch with most of my friends and family, do my research, organise my Pas and so on; in fact, I think Lyn and I spend most of our time at our computers. Yet sometimes I think there are cases where you just have to get off your arse, go out into the world, and get stuff done.

Take this morning, for instance. On Saturday we have another wedding to go to, this time in oxford. Now, I know you can book tickets online, but the route we’re going to have to take will be complicated, so after much fretting and trying to work out websites, I said to myself, ”Right, let’s just do it the old way.” I wrote out the following note, printed it, and set off for Charlton train station.

” Hi

On Saturday, me, my wheelchair-using fianc and two personal assistants need to travel from here to oxford. We have an appointment at [omitted] at 3pm. We intend to travel back in the late evening. We need as few changes as possible. Can you help me book tickets and arrange for ramps etc

Your help is greatly appreciated”

I knew I could have typed the message into my lightwriter, but I find sometimes simply handing people notes is faster and more efficient. If memory serves, it’s a technique I used to use when I first started coming to London to visit Lyn. Today, once again, it worked a treat – the woman helping me was bright, attentive, and understood immediately what I needed. It took a little while, but a short time later I rolled out of the station with the tickets, itinerary, and the assistance we’ll need organised. Sometimes, the old ways are the best; the ‘net is great, but there’s nothing like good, knowledgeable people to get stuff organised.

I don’t feel I know enough about american politics or economics to comment on it at any legnth, but I do feel that world economics is currently being held to ransom by a band of ultra right wing zealots in the states, holding far more power than any bunch of morons should. I could go on about how I feel that the so-called tea party is putting their hatred of obama ahead of all else, including the risk of a dire world financial crisis. Instead, I better just direct you here , to an article by someone who knows what they’re talking about.

In my entry earlier I neglected to mention a very important detail: it’s only small, and I only remembered I had intended to include it after we went out this afternoon, but I think it’s worth a blog entry unto itself anyway. At the reception on Saturday, each table had a name rather than a number, as is commonplace at such events. I think I’ve mentioned on here before that Mark is a physicist, so each table was named after a famous physicist. The head table, at which Mark, Kat and our parents sat, was called Newton, for example. Now, I don’t know for certain weather he had done it deliberately, although I’d be willing to wager good money that he did, but the table which Lyn and I were on was called Hawking. When I realised the connection – like hawking, we are both VOCA users, and he was something of a childgood hero of mine – I burst into laughter; never again will I doubt Mark’s wit.

Rather appropriately for my two thousandth entry, It gives me very great pleasure indeed to be able to record that the wedding of my brother Mark to Kat. The ceremony was in Loughborough on Saturday, and was followed by a reception at the magnificent Stanford Hall. I went with Lyn, and we had a great time. Once again, I find myself having too much to write on here, and not knowing what to put in or leave out.

This weekend was the first time I had seen mark or Kat in over a year and a half, so just seeing them was a joy in itself. It was also the first time they had met Lyn, so, in a way, the family felt complete for the first time: at the reception on Saturday afternoon, a great feeling of happiness came over me – I know it was Mark and Kat’s day, but this weekend was very special for me. I suppose I love my family, and I’m enormously proud of them, and to see it united for the first time brought me great joy.

This weekend, I also met Luke, Mum’s cousin, for the first time. Although I’d heard a great deal about him he lives mostly in LA so it was the first time we’d met since I was a baby. He works in film, so almost as soon as we got talking, I knew where I’d got my passion for the arts from. It was an incredible moment: finally, someone in the family who knew about Lacan, Bazin and so on. Indeed, I became rather jealous when he told me he had been taught by a guy who had studied under Barthes himself. I’m now looking forward to emailing him my thesis, to see what he thinks of my work.

In all, then, it was a wonderful weekend, and it went too fast. The best thing, I think, was seeing mark and Kat so happy. Another highlight, it has to be recorded, was Luke’s awesome best man speech. It’s my cousin Christina’s wedding to Tom this coming Saturday, so it won’t be too long till I see my family again. I can’t wait!