”the prime minister is finished” indeed

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.

Resisting arrogant urges

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.

something I can be truly proud of.

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.

Stumbling over summer

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.

Three out of four in one day

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.

Speaking wisdom down through the centuries

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.

‘Music has to say something.’

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!

Mum and dad pop round

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.

Pink nail poem

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!