I was out during PMQs today, but I just saw this gem of a clip. At last someone shut that unelected prick CaMoron up. As the speaker said: ”the prime minister is finished”. I could not agree more, and frankly the fact that he tried to ignore the speaker tells you everything you need to know about the arrogant piece of shit.

Since I passed my masters, I have noticed an odd change in my attitude, and one which I need to keep an eye on. I now know for certain that I can do anything I put my mind to; my confidence is soaring. Yet strangely I think I sense a new kind of arrogance in myself; a feeling of superiority which leads to a lack of patience with others. After all, I find myself reasoning, I have a masters degree, so why should I put up with being stared at, talked down to or argued with. You might say this was a good thing, but I must watch myself in case it goes too far. Starting to call people plebs, for instance, might not be a good sign.

I have just spent the last four and a half hours listening to my computer read my master’s thesis. While I am, of course, intimately familiar with it’s content, I had never sat down to read it from start to finish – whenever I tried to do so, I was overcome with feeling of impending doom. Now I’ve had my results, though, I no longer need to fear: given that I intend to use it as a springboard for future work, and that people will probably be asking me about it soon, I decided I needed to brush up on it. After all, I wrote parts of it six or seven years ago.

I need not have worried. While I repeat myself slightly a couple of times, and I could do with ironing out one or two transitions to improve the flow (a result of the document being worked on for such a long time, I think) what I found myself listening to this afternoon was something I can be truly proud of. It is possibly the best thing I’ve ever written; at over forty thousand words it’s certainly the longest by far. It isn’t perfect, but I found my argument convincing, and I feel that theres a lot of good stuff in there. As I noted here a week or two ago, it shows me what I am capable if I stick at it. More importantly, though it ives me confidence to go on to bigger, better, perhaps more creative things.

I am writing this in the shade of a tree in charlton park. The sun is beating down, and dispite the wind, it’s quite warm. I was just on a Sunday afternoon stroll and thought I would pop in to the park, where to my surprise and joy I have found a cricket match being played. While it isn’t the team I usually support playing – their season begins in two weeks – this is still wonderful to behold. It seems summer has suddenly been switched on: my worries have suddenly vanished, and it feels like the start of a long, glorious season.

You gotta feel sorry for Mr. Moyes

Sacked for failing the United boys.

Then Giggs steps in,

And, by Jove! they win!

So, so much for poor David Moyes.

Yesterday was one of those insanely busy sort of days, which absolutely knacker you out yet make you feel alive. First, at about noon I had my usual Ipad group at school: I go in and help a group of students learn to communicate using their Ipads. Then, after a quick slurp of coke and a kiss at home, it was off to greenwich to check in at GAD. My business there was brief – you know the type: things were happening there but hadn’t yet, so I need to wait a bit more. It’s coming along though, and will be very cool when things are sorted.

Then, from Greenwich town, I caught the DLR to east London university in order to attend a screening I had been invited to. It was a bit of a complicated trip, especially for a distance so small as the crow flies, but I got there with time to spare, and grabbed a coke in their canteen before the screening. It was not unlike the Wes in there, which made me slightly nostalgic. I’ll hopefully be starting work at the Rix centre there next week, so I’ll probably bet to know it.

The film we saw was The White Ribbon by Michael Haneke, a brilliant if at times slow german ghost story, with no ghost. Set in 1913, I read it n relation to Heimat, as it seemed to concern the same kind of traumas, the same uncanniness, the same unease with the land; the discussion after, however, focussed on the actors experience and the director’s process, so I couldn’t add much; Interestingly, however, they read it as an allegory about class, certainly a valid observation. Nevertheless,it was a great evening, and hopefully I’ll be invited to more.

My initial plan after the screening had been to head back to Greenwich to attend a bikers’ event where our friend Gus would be playing. The screening at the university was longer than I expected, an, despite starting at five, I didn’t get clear of it till gone nine. By then,, it was too late for anything more: I caught the DLR to Woolwich and headed home, grabbing myself a pizza as I always did after late thursday lectures. It had been a great day, one which thrilled me and filled me with yet more confidence. I may have missed the final gig, but there will be more, and three out of four isn’t bad.

They say today is William Shakespeare’s birthday. Today, then, is the day the English language changed; on this day, a man was born whose contribution to human culture is beyond reckoning. A man whose words will live on through the centuries, and whose writings would encapsulate the human condition like no other. I have always loved the works of Shakespeare: ever since I first encountered them at school, studying Macbeth and then The Tempest, I have adored his use of language the images he conjures up and the way his characters still speak to us today so well, even though they were created four centuries ago. Shakespeare speaks on through the ages, and will no doubt continue to do so for a long time. No doubt, school children will continue to curse his name for many years hence, not realising they are being imparted with that most precious gift: wisdom.

Today I would like to flag this up. Lyn just posted a brilliant piece of writing on her website, in which she describes her attitude towards music. Entitled ‘New Album’, Lyn outlines how she feels music needs to mean something to be any good – it isn’t enough to be tuneful, but it has to have thought and emotion behind it. I could not agree more, and indeed I think that that is just about my stance on art in general. I know my entries have been a bit short on analysis recently, and I’ll endeavour to get back to writing some more hefty articles soon, but I don’t want to say much more as Lyn can speak for herself. Go read!

Today’s visit from my parents went well – quite awesomely, in fact. It was good to see them. We just chatted over coffee and brunch in our front room, our conversation ranging from the extent to which Britain can be called a Christian nation to television history. My parents even made a very good suggestion about an idea for a project I have. Then it was time for a walk to the new organic veg shop in the village before saying goodbye again.

It was good to see them, and it is always kind of sad to part, bit it won’t be too long before we see my parents again. I look forward to the next time, which will be a big family get-together,in Paris. That will rule, and, given there weren’t any comment about my nails earlier, I might just keep them pink till then.

Varnish on my fingernails

Put on Friday for fun

It best be off by tomorrow though

Before we see Dad and Mum

***

It’s not that they mind or anything

In fact, they’ll probably laugh

Dad’ll just raise his eyebrow

And suggest I take a bath

***

My nails do look good though:

All glossy, painted pink How I love being a tranny

To hell with what others think! ***

As I cruise the city in my chair

I overhear others talk

They think I lost a bet or something

But I’m just out for a walk

***

My nails will be normal soon

It does not take long to go

My fingers will soon be boyish again

But ’till then, enjoy the show!

It has been a cool, Iinteresting sort of day. I am still buzzing about my masters: passing it has energised me in a way I never predicted. Having had a day at home yesterday, I decided a day of exploration was in order. This morning, while Lyn enjoyed a lie in, I popped down to woolwich to see what was going on. Like every Saturday, it was busy. There was also a loud, irritating street preacher who needed unplugging, much to her chagrin and everyone else’s gratitude (and, for the record, I am not posessed by any deamons, contrary to her accusations).

This afternoon was just as fun. After coming home to say hi to the love of my life, and after a trip to the vegetable shop, I struck out again. If recently occurred to me that I had yet to explore canary wharf. It’s quite close to where we live, and looks like a slice of New York on the horizon. I had been thinking about going there for an explore, and since it’s only one stop away on the tube, this afternoon I went.

I soon found myself in what must be one of the richest, swankiest parts of the city. I must say I was impressed by how plush and clean it was. Yet, it being a Saturday afternoon, it was very quiet, and I didn’t find that much to interest me. I didn’t go too far, in case I got lost, so I may have missed bits; but on the wold I found the place lavish but uninteresting. There weren’t even any street preachers to unplug. Soon I was on my way home, hungry, impressed yet disappointed, yet glad to have explored yet another part of this amazingly varied city.

I’m sorry, but, five hundred light years away or not, this story is just too awesome not to flag up. The journal Science has reported the discovery of an extra-solar planet which is the right size and distance from it’s star to be capable of sustaining life. Of course, there’s no way of knowing for sure, but the fact that it’s in the goldilocks zone is tantalising. You never know: perhaps someone there is looking through their telescope at the blue-green dot we’re on and wondering if there’s intelligent life here.

Hmm…I suppose that is debatable.

I just heard, on newsnight, of the sad death of Gabrielle Garcia Marques. I cannot profess to know much about Marque, having read only one of his books, but it is clear we have lost a great writer. Of course, I instantly thought of Ricardio, about how, at university, he adapted 100 Years of Solitude for the stage, for his masters. I remembered how my director friend had asked me to codirect, how I eventually decided to sit down and read the book in a couple of days, and how I was blown away by it’s scope and vision. It is, quite simply, an amazing book; Ricardio did a great job in his adaptation, and I’m sure he’ll be very sad indeed to hear this news. ”The world…is round…Like an orange!”

I usually hate shows like Britain’s Got Talent*, seeing it as the bastardisation and trivialisation of art, especially music, but this performance from Ukraine’s version is different, profound, and staggering. It basically amounts to a woman telling the history of her country in a surprising yet beautiful way, and I’m sure it will now be on my mind all day.

*Even the incorrect title irks me.

Today was fairly productive. Next month I’ll hopefully start volunteering at The Rix Centre, a unit in the uni of east London. They do a lot of cool stuff there, focussing on Multimedia Advocacy, which involves using media of various kinds to help improve the lives of people with disabilities. I have a meeting there n a couple of weeks, but it’s in an area I’m unfamiliar with, and I don’t want to muck up, so today I went that way to explore. Getting there took a while, but proved straightforward enough. My plan was just to go, look around and come back, but once there I thought I’d pop in. I have met the lady who runs it before, so I thought I’d say hi. To my surprise, I was invited to join them in a planning meeting: I felt a little out of place, but it was cool; the have many awesome things in the works. I told them, now my master’s is done and dusted, I’d like to become more involved: of course I have more free time now, but it’s more a case of me feeling more confident and thus more proactive than ever. I currently feel like I can do anything, so I want to go out and do it. I told them this, and they invited me to a few events, and even gave me a little homework. Great stuff. I now can’t wait to start there, especially now I know the way.

I must say that, putting any other concerns aside, I think the bully in this story got what he deserved. Edmond Aviv was convicted of harassing his neighbours and their disabled children for 15 years.A judge in Ohio has ordered him to appear in public, holding a sign that reads: ”I am a bully”. Of course some will call such a punishment inappropriate, even inhumane or degrading, and the chap even has the gall to portray himself as some kind of victim; but having seen the effects of such harassment first hand, and having experienced low-level disablism myself, I think the arsehole got his just comeuppance. Mind you, the article does not go into what his motives may have been – I suspect there might be more to this, so a bit of googling is now in order.

It was good to see that moronic little xenophobe farage get the kicking he deserves on friday night’s Have I Got news for You; Hislop and Merton really laid into him, exposing him for the fruitcake he is. How amusing to see the comments below this article calling it bbc propaganda, like Nigel’s little sheep. Mind you, it has been a hectic weekend, so I think I need to rewatch it; luckily I can just go here

Yesterday was, all in all, an amazing day: Lyn and I had a cool little trip to dartford, mostly for a change of scenery. We went in Marta’s car which only has room for one chair, so I had to walk. I’m now slightly sore, but the exercise as good for me. Then, in the evening, Bob Lawrence played one of Lyn’s tracks! It took us both completely by surprise, and it was wonderful to hear it come on, out of the blue. I think it made both our days; Lyn was overjoyed, and I’ve rarely felt more proud! A great end to a wonderful, wonderful week – I doubt either of us could be happier.

Sitting on a bench in a dartford park Not long from now it wil be dark.

Yet the grass is green and the sky blue

Lovely to be here, sat by you

Soon it will be time to wend our way

The sun setting on a great day

Thanks for showing me the place of your birth

And sharing your life with me here on earth

For the last few years, it has felt like a pall hanging over me. While I loved my subject, at the back of my mind I always knew I had something to finish. A growing part of me was starting to say that I would never get it finished, and that I just was not good enough. These last two mornings, though, I’ve woken up with that pall gone: no more feeling guilty about going roaming when I have work to do; no more doubting myself. I know now that I have good, valid ideas: I have successfully shown that there is a relationship between fandom and cinephilia. I have written a thesis I can be proud of: it is quite a substantial piece of work, one which I am told stands out from the norm. Knowing that I got there at last feels amazing.

The question remains, of course, what next? While I have irons in one or two fires, nothing is firm yet. That, though, is not a major worry now, and I know I can do anything. The idea of doing a PhD begins to appeal again, but that can wait – after seven years, I think I need a break. Yet ideas are already beginning to bubble up in my head again: I now feel free to think, reflecting yesterday for instance that possibly one of the reasons I’m so fixated on Happy and Glorious is that it alludes to the pre-credit sequence of the spy who loved me, one of my own cinephiliac moments and a passage of film about which I write at length in my thesis. The two moments are, for me, linked; one of the very things I have been obsessing over for so long was used in the olympics – how cool is that? What are the chances? But how does that change the dynamic, and was the reference intentional? The bigger question now, though, is how to move forward, how to put such reflections to good use.

Just a brief note to say that, after about seven years, today I received word that my revisions had been approved and I have therefore passed my master’s. Now I know it should have only taken me a year, and I feel bad that it took so long; but I take it as a lesson to myself never to give up – I will get there in the end. Mind you, so much has happened in the last seven years, especially meeting Lyn and moving to London, that accounting for it all would take another forty thousand words: it, like the whole of my life since going to uni in 2004, has been amazing. I count myself as very lucky indeed, not least to have so many great friends, like Lyn, Esther, Charlie, our PAs and my parents, to help and support me. Now, though, enough naval-gazing – time to celebrate!

Now it is spring, today I decided to get my biannual ordeal with the barber over and done with. [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/Photo on 29-07-2013 at 21.05.jpg[/img]

Today I started rewatching Game of Thrones. I’ve been wanting to take it seriously and get to grips with it for a while, so on friday I bought the first two seasons on DVD. I did start watching the series before,, but having to rely on downloaded versions, I did not get very far. Now I just have to watch one or two episodes a day, and within a month I’ll be up to date with the rest of the world.

I’m still, mind you, trying to find something less mainstream to get into. As I noted here, the three franchises that I find myself thinking most about – Bond, star Trek and Lord of the Rings – are all highly popular, mega-budget mainstream affairs everyone knows about. Now I want to look for the opposite: no more cinematic extravaganzas, cgi space-battles, gigantic cavalry charges or olympic parachute jumps; I want to hunt for the niche, the unheard of. It will probably be online. You know the type: low-budget original films, often on Youtube. Such things interest me, as, like the young turks of the French New wave, fan art is often free of the constraints of the mainstream. While I’ll probably always love bond, Baggins and Ben Sisco – not to mention that dirty little whore-fucking dwarf – it’s time to take a detour off the main road and head into the low-budget, highly creative back streets of the internet. The question is, where to look.

As you may know, the queen Elizabeth Olympic park opened to the public today, and predictably I couldn’t resist going up there. Perhaps the first thing to note is that, to get there from the tube station, you have to pass through Stratford shopping city. My first thought, upon seeing this ultimate temple to capitalism, was ‘what fresh hell is this?’ The place is huge: it makes the Trafford centre in Manchester look like a small provincial shopping arcade. If you dislike crowds for any reason, this is not a place for you. Yet my inner Walter Benjamin kicked in, and I began to make my way through the maelstrom.

When I eventually got to the park, having taken a while to find the way out of the arcade, I was struck by the vibrancy and enormity of londons biggest, newest park. It is very big and very impressive. Yet dispite the activity there today, it also had an odd, dead feel to it. It was almost uncanny. Of course, it might just have been because the plants were yet to grow and things were yet to settle, but the place had an unnatural, unhomely feel; perhaps there just wasn’t enough grass.

Having said that, I left impressed: I could see that park becoming a wonderful place to visit. And, making my way back through the shops, passing many swanky, nice resteraunts, I couldn’t help thinking it might be a nice place to take Lyn. Perhaps I just went on the wrong day, or too early. Either way, I can’t help but be impressed at the transformation of what was, not long ago, an urban wasteland into a modern, thriving feature of the metropolis. I couldn’t help thinking too that, now we have these structures, the only logical thing to do with them is use them for the purpose they were built for and bid again for the Olympics. Now we have the stadium, why not? That, though, is another issue; for now, I have Stratford to explore, although going on a Saturday morning probably isn’t such a good idea.

There’s nothing better, after a day out and about, after a day exploring Woolwich common and it’s historic surroundings, then returning home to be taken out again shopping and then dinner out; there is nothing better, after a long day in a fascinating city, than to turn the television off, lie back and relax to a mix of wonderful music chosen by the woman you love, as you reflect on how beautiful life is, has become and what the morning might bring. There is nothing better.

Today finds me very concerned indeed. Last night we saw nick clegg absolutely trounce Nigel Farage: cleggs arguments were more sound, more logical; the statistics he produced were not plucked from thin air, like farage’s. Yet according to the polls, as much as 68% say Farage won. Of course, that poll would have been made up of those motivated to watch the debate, those interested in such matters. I’m sure most sensible people would have ignored it, distaining Farage as the lying xenophobe he proved himself to be last night. Yet it remains that most people who watched were taken in by the nonsense he was spewing, and that,, to a guy who loves multicultural society and who has wit enough to see what this man has to say as the anachronistic nonsense it is, is very worrying indeed.

I was thinking on my afternoon walk this afternoon, why should we cling to the idea that the key to preserving a culture is maintaining state barriers? Some people claim that letting people come here from other countries somehow dissolves our ‘native’ culture, or that something is lost. But, it occurred to me, given that culture is what people create aes indeviduals, there is nothing that innately links one type of culture to one group of people or one place. In fact it seems to me that to try to do so is restrictive, as it would mean imposing a set of rules, saying the Brits do X and the French do Y, and it should always be thus. From this perspective, the state is as restrictive a concept as religion.

Part of my studies involves fans and fan cultures. There, culture is based on common interest and artistic creation; where you come from and what you believe (or what your parents believed) does not matter. Thus we need to escape this reductive, opressive view of culture; we need to allow people to express themselves as indeviduals, and to mix irrespective of nationality. That means abandoning concepts like state and nation, and evolving as one. That’s why I object so passionately to those who want to pull up the drawbridge and quit Europe: theirs, for all their claims, is an isolationist, anachronistic view which gets ud – humanity – nowhere. We need to escape the concept of state as integral to culture, ignore idiots like Farage, and work with our neighbours to evolve culturally.

Yesterday afternoon, on something of a spur of the moment decision, I took myself up to the London Film Museum to see Bond in Motion. I had been wanting to check it out for ages, and it being sunny, with not much else to do, I decided to get it done. Getting up there was easy as usual; finding the museum in Covent Garden was a little more tricky, but didn’t take too long. Once there, though, the bond fan in me was in heaven: aston martins, rolls royces and all kinds of vehicles used in the Bond films were everywhere. They were piping the bond themes through the sound system. I got chatting to one of the very knowledgable guys there about how some of the stunts were done; he sort of attached himself to me and showed me around. I showed him some of my bond-related blog entries on my Ipad, which seemed to impress him. Most interesting for me, however, were the storyboards and original concept art they had on display.

I set off back home after an hour or so really happy, having spurned the chance to have my photo taken in a gunbarrel, but choosing instead to have a quick martini at the O2 en route. I’m sorry, but after an afternoon like that, a martini was essential. I returned home happy at having an awesome day in this awesome city, and vowing to myself hat one day I will own a DB5.

Paul our PA just threw this my way. It’s quite a great TED talk from a palestinian-american comedian with cerebral palsy called Masoon Zyed. She is very funny and acerbic, and she also makes some very valid points about prejudice against people with disabilities, especially in the acting world. If you have quarter of an hour or so to spare, it is ell worth a watch.