I hope we are all enjoying the heat. As usual on days like these, I like to get out of the house and have a razz about in the Defiant on days like these and so today I headed off towards the park. I think I have described Congleton park here before: it is still very pretty with its Victorian flower beds and paths.

However, today I noticed a difference: the pavilion has been renovated. Now, I have been acquainted with that pavilion since before I can remember – mum uses to take me to playgroup there when I was three or four. I remember being taken there to ‘paint’ (I use that term loosely) and play with toys. The building itself is Victorian, and I remember it’s dusty wooden floor and the faint smell of damp.

The place was subject to a arson attack two or three years ago, and for a while it’s future was doubtful. Today, however, the distinct smell of coffee wafts from it’s windows; the wooden floor is polished; there are a dozen or so dark black tables surrounded by chairs apalstered in leather. Opposite the double doors which overlook the park, there is a bar.

I found the ramp round the side and rolled in. it was cool and shady – I took to it instantly. Unfolding my lightwriter, I ordered an extra sweet espresso: the guy serving seemed to know instantly what was required off him, getting my purse from by bum bag, as instructed, and showing me exactly what he was doing. He even helped me drink.

Granted, the place is on the expensive side – £1.40 for my espresso – but, all in all, I think I have found a new watering hole.

wooo. bushbaby swored! what a naughty little moron redneck go read. mind you, i wish he would stop doing his shit too.

It’s odd how fast things ccan change. tonight, i managed to make amends and settle my grievences with bill, and Kate assures me thaat she is not angry with me, although I still deeply reggret letting 1voicce down. thhat is to say, my absence seems not to have caused too much trouble (I hope not anyway). my woorld again seems peaceful, and no permanent damage seems to be done; mind you,, I shouldnt have been such a humbug all weekend. I just wish things in the middle east could be settled equally swiftly

I have been forced to let down the organisation i feel most passiionately for – at the last moment, my p.a said he could not take me to the onevoice evemt. right nw, despite the facct my brothers are here, I feel sadder and angrier than I have ever felt.

tamsin, kate and katie – I’m so ssorry.

The bibliophiles among us may be interested in this article, telling of the sale of an early edition of the first folio. In my opinion, £2.8m sounds cheap when you consider this book is, in terms of culture, more valuable than the mona Lisa, for in Shakespeare we find all of humanity.

I suppose these last few days I’ve been feeling down. I’ve been worrying about leaving home; concerns about my car; there has been friction between myself, my parents and a good friend of mine, which I utterly loathe; and so on. Yet, on the reverse side of it all, I have, possibly for the first time in my life, the feeling that I can deal with it all. I know what I have to do to solve these problems, and know I can do them.

Of course, this is helped by the news that I got a first for my Classical Hollywood cinema essay. I popped over to Crewe yesterday, and bumped into my film tutor. We got chatting – I told him of my intentions to do a PhD in film there, and he seems to think it was a great idea. I’m still intrigued by the question of filmic linguistics: how, exactly, does film work at the level of the shot? What ‘drives’ meaning from one shot to the next? Is it the principals of ‘montage or bust’, as Eisenstein had it? Is it through sheer necessity, rather than anything bore complex? Or – and this is the part which fascinates me – does synesthesia play a role? Further, the other day I was pondering visual / pectoral languages, and it occurred to me that I could potentially draw lessons from minspeak, for there pictures are used to make meaning, but because the minspeak user often selects two buttons (thereby modifying the selection made to make a third meaning) the relationship between sign and signified is more arbitrary in the sesseurean sense. Now, I may be completely barking up the wrong tree, but the question is could film be functioning in a similar way, albeit unconsciously? Could the juxtaposition of two shots be combining to make a third meaning, slightly arbitrarily? As I say I am fascinated by the whole plethora of questions this (admittedly reductivist) approach to film gives rise to, and I am eagerly looking into it.

In the meantime, I am eagerly looking forward to this weekend. With luck, I’ll be able to get more acquainted with Minspeak, perhaps enough to work out if it is of any theoretical use in my film work. If it is, and something similar to minspeak is operating within film (thereby bypassing Metz’ major reservation over whether film constitutes a language) I’ll be very excited. Either way, I can’t wait to see the 1voice kids this weekend – if last year was anything to go by, it’ll be one hell of a weekend. I just hope I don’t bore them too much.

Dontchya just love taking the piss out of crips? It’s just so funny! the best thing is, they can’t fight back. The problem is, they’ve started doing it themselves: they’re taking the pee out of themselves. It’s not fair.

Listen to this. the ouch podcast is both interesting and very funny. On the face of it, the presenters just sound like they’re mucking about, but they do indeed raise some important issues. Go listen.

On the local news today, it was reported that the city council of Liverpool plans to rename several streets named after slave traders. This, I must say, raises my eyebrow, for while I can see why they are doing this, we can never forget our ties with our past. Those streets were called so for a reason: deeply regrettable though it may be, slavery is part of our heritage. Forget it and we risk repeating it.

Happily, however, the streets will be now named after prominent abolitionists.

I am a trekkie, and I come from a family of scientists, so this news of today’s spacewalk is naturally of great interest. needless to say, I’d love to go into space wouldn’t we all? if space does represent the future of humanity, at least some progress towards the final frontier is still being made.

Today, as you all know, is the first anniversary of one of the most terrible terrorist attacks ever to occur in this country. It was tragic, and my heart goes out to all the victim’s families. Yet, just as every action has a reaction, everything has a cause, and no doubt our involvement in the war on terror lead to this country being attacked.

The abject stupidity of the war still reils me: how can we fight ‘terror’? our very actions in Iraq and Afghanistan are causing more and more people to resort to terrorism, so it’s counter-productive. Why can’t Blair and bush see this obvious truth? How can they fail to see it?

Nevertheless, life goes on. The fact that Londoners simply returned to work thee next day showed their true grit: my heart goes out to them today, and I salute their courage.

I’m tired; not just physically but emotionally. I’ve began, in the last few days, to think about leaving home. It’s high time I severed the links with childhood; it’s time I became independent of my parents. University has taught me how great life can be, and how great having nobody around nagging you is. Yet to me as a crip this raises all sorts of questions: where shall I live, and how do I cope? 1001 little problems go through my head from ‘how do I get a flat with a key I can use’ to ‘how can I withdraw money?’ for all my life I have had the certainty of my parents as back up, organising things, making sure everything’s ok. While I’m sure my parents would continue this unction if I asked, I must do stuff by myself. Questions then arise about who I can trust, who is trying to screw me, and whether or not someone might one day turn around and say, in a condescending tone, ‘wouldn’t you be better in a home?’

As a crip this problem has always scared me, but I know I must do it. As soon as I get settled into my own place, perhaps with a live-in p.a, I know I’ll be happy. Hell, I was like this before I went to university, and look what happened then! It’s time to take the next logical step.

Illogical though it may be, I suspect this anxiety arises, in part, because I worry that, for some reason, I won’t be able to communicate my wishes. I worry that, as a VOCA user, others will assume they know best and start talking for me. I will not, must not, let this happen, but this does not stop this nagging fear which right now I cannot shake. I know that, with my lightwriter firmly attached to my waist, I can achieve almost anything, yet….

Oh well, I suppose it’ a big step for anyone. I’ll just need to take it slowly, looking forward to the great adventures I am about to have while taking comfort in the thought that my parents, brothers and friends will always be there for me, and making sure my lightwriter is fully charged.

I think the oppressive heat, combined with the losses in tennis and football, has caused the whole country to become miserable, long in the face. It did me. But when your chewing on life’s gristle, you should go here.

Didn’t manage to post yesterday because absolutely nothing happened. Had a rather relaxing day in front of the box – it was too hot t do much else, and I was feeling lethargic. Watched alt of ‘a Natural history of Britain’ on UKTV History, and read some Metz.

It’s all very depressing: we are out of the world cup; we lost the cricket too; one year on from live 8, hardly any progress has been made; both Iraq and Afghanistan seem to be going to hell…;etc

Hmm. Che sirrah, sirrah, I suppose. Although it unfortunately clashes with the coming of mark, the Onevoice weekend is soon, so I can look forward to that: helping those kids seems to always cheer me up, and sort of gives me a refreshed sense of worth. The only downside is that it occurs on THAT weekend. Typical, isn’t it?

This, combined with various other decisions I have made, I am kind of glum, in a way; yet I know I can handle all this, so I’m also quite cheerful. It is a challenge life that is – and one I can meet.

Oh well, have a good day everyone.

Must admit I came up here to thrash at my keyboard about how portugal is an upstart nation which never contribbuted anything to the world. None of it would be true, and I’d regret it in the morning. so I’ll just say that i’m dissapointed, but relieved that I do not have to get het up over the football any more. nevertheless, I need a beer.

Artscool, it must be said, was a huge success. It was also shattering. There were kids of all ages coming onto campus from throughout the Crewe area this week, and I was part of the squad of students who looked after them! I have never seen so many sprogs: they were all over the place.

I’m quite tired now, so I won’t write much. I’ll just say this week was a true credit to joss west-burnham, kerri tomkinson, and everyone involved.

now, though, I need my bed!

Okay, I freely admit I’m an extrovert. Or rather, I’m a damn fool: something in me wants to show off, regardless to potential cost to life and limb. Whenever there’s an opportunity to make an arse of myself, you bet I will.

I better explain. Every night this week there has been a performance at art school of some description. Local school kids come onto campus and perform either dance or drama or whatever. At the end of this evening, there was a little time left over, so a couple of my fellow MMU students went on stage and started to rap. I was sat by the ramp up to the stage, and suddenly the urge took me. I flew up the ramp; the defiant went up on her back wheels, I stopped on stage, dropped my lightwriter, picked it up, turned my hazard lights on and danced my head off!

Apparently, everyone loved it. I was cheered! My two rapping mates said I should do it again tomorrow, and told me not to apologise. It was fun, either way. Being an extrovert rules.

Today, I took it easy, having exhausted myself lugging chairs yesterday. It was, I think, a quieter day at art school, with fewer kids, so there was less to do. I spent most of the day at the stage, watching proceedings, or on the help desk, or zooming about campus offering help to people. Tomorrow, I’m due to be a student helpertype for Springfield school, who are coming in to perform. Springfield is a local special school – one must raise an eyebrow at the choice of yours truly as liaison for that particular school though.

I better not get political with them: they man not like me explaining away their schools right to existence.

Another long, tiring day it’s been. this afternoon we had to lay out 500 chairs on grass, which meant carrying (or dragging) them about 40 metres from their pile. I’m shattered: we cripple writers aren’t built for manual labour. it was fun though. must get to bed. for the reason why being a crip rules (or one of them) go here.

I’m out and about every day this week; believe it or not, I have a job (kinda). It’s at uni helping to look after kids in art school. They do performances, artwork etc, and we ‘student ambassadors’ just help out running and fetching. Today we had about ninety kids on campus; tomorrow there will be 400.

I need my rest. It’s going to be a long day! However, I promise to post a nice long rant here sometime soon – my blogs been crap recently.

ok, so what the feck is this?

had to be posted

David Cameron, I note was on Jonathon Ross’s show last night. To be honest, he came across as quite a decent guy. The interview made me re-think my attitude towards him – he seems genuine and I think he told the truth. Too much of politics is reduced to childish bickering, whereas it should be about adult discussion, and I think mr. Cameron made that point. I shouldn’t have called him names.

He has the air of a PM in waiting, just as Blair had. After that interview I am a little more comfortable with this, and less inclined to decry it as a facade. Yet the fact remains he is anti-inclusion: for this reason, I cannot support him. The simple fact is that special education ruins kids prospects in life, and inclusion, despite the claims of condescending parents who I frankly doubt understand the issue, is the best way forward. It is vital, of course, we implement it properly, but I genuinely believe it is the best option. I therefore cannot fully endorse Cameron, but the prospect of having him as PM seems, this morning, a lot less abhorrent.

Mind you, Ross was right when he pointed out that there isn’t a lot of difference between the two main parties these days. When Cameron is elected, it’ll just be Blair mark 2.

It has been a long day, and tomorrow will probably be even fuller. I’ve got a job helping kids do art, although i’m not sure I’m much help. Since i’m not very enthusiastic tonight, I’ll send you somewhere quite interesting instead

Blimey! I have never seen so many chavs!

I went to the pub with my neighbour, Mark, to watch the match last night. It was the first England game I had ever seen in a pub and it was quite5 an experience. The place was packed; I mean, chock full. Most people there were wearing red England shirts and odd trousers which were white and too short.

Here be chavs!

Truth be told, it was ok. Steve and jen turned up for the first half, and we talked for a bit, but then went: I think the place was too crowded. Me and mark were seated, so we could barely see any of the numerous screens dotted around the establishment – there were too many heads in the way. Mid you, we didn’t miss much, although the sheer intensity of the roar when England scored was something to experience.. amazing!

The match was not the best, but at least we are through.

I love my independence; these last two years at university have granted me more freedom than ever. The freedom to come and go as I please; to scoot over to the library; to go to the pub with my mates ad win the pub quiz; to stay up till nigh on midnight reading; to go to Chester to see my friends band (if your reading this, charlotte, when should I come again?); to go to discos dressed as a fairy; to hang around campus in a skirt; to do a billion things I previously thought impossible.

Yet while I love all this, I also feel the need to go home. I am, now , my own man, with agency, but I am also a son and a brother. In short I feel the need to collect the Diaspora of the goodsells: I want to sit again around the kitchen table drinking proper beer while both my brothers take the piss out of me and the I call physics a waste of time! I want to hug mum and dad. I want my father to read to me again.

It’s quite a coincidence that a week after I finish a book which focuses on whaling (as allegory or otherwise), it is reported that pro-waling countries have moved one step closer to lifting the ban. Frankly, I do not see the point. We have plenty of meat and no longer need spermaceti to fuel our lights. Why do they need to hunt the graceful leviathan once more? I hope one rams them!

Don’t they know they’re dangerous?

Further to my posting yesterday, here’s a link to a site which has the text of what appear to be most of the classics – anything from Aesop to sophocles, all free! amazing, this interweb thing, innit?

I was hanging around the pc rooms with steve this mornig, surfing randomly. We were on you tube, and look what I found. this clip – the first contact scene where picard quotes Moby Dick – I reguard as one of the finest sequences in all of cinema. Its finely written and masterfully acted. I love it, I cant reaklly explain why though.

Steve rules!

Although I love to actually own books – the physical objects themselves seeming to be possessed of a metaphysical aura – I recently found this site. It’s a huge collection of books re-printed online, and what is wonderful is it is free to access! Here , for instance, is moby dick; here is heart of darkness; and here is the u.s declaration of independence.

Go read.

Moby-dick got me thinking. In literature we have the plethora of humanity itself: books – indeed, all art – has the capacity to show us what it means to be human. It can illuminate the world, be it prose, play, poem, opera, painting or dance.

Thus, on Wednesday, I came to the conclusion that I should try as many of these art forms as possible. Not only should I read as many books as possible, but go to as many plays, galleries, operas etc as I can. Basically to see what the authors, through their various media, have to tell me.

It goes without saying that this extends to film and TV. Leaving aside contemporary work – for there there is no author – the exception to this is reality TV. This can say nothing to us, but simply is crass voyeurism and lust for celebrity. Thus, thinks I, how can I run away from this?

Thus on Wednesday I came to the conclusion that I needed to ground myself in the classics. In a way, Greek tragedy is about as far from big brother, culturally speaking, as is humanly possible. And besides, how can I call myself a homme du monde without reading the classics.

And that’s what I am doing: I went to the library and collected four books of plays. They’re only short, so I can whiz through one in a morning. Yesterday I read king Oedipus by Sophocles.

Only problem is, its dry and miserable stuff! Shakespeare could sometimes be humorous (think the porter scene in Macbeth; a few of caliban’s lines in the tempest); Melville had his funny lines too. Most writers, no matter how serious their subject matter, add at least some touches of humour to there work. Not so the Greeks! In Oedipus, the main character pokes his eyes out! They really should lighten up, and I hope they get more cheerful.

I was in the pub last night and I managed to catch the ITV news after the Germany/Poland game. They were coveting the paedophile story. I know it really is quite scandalous, no doubt about that, but I hate the way David Cameron looks so smug. It’s as if he knows he’s scoring points.

Well, this problem would have been even worse under the Tories. It is only now labour put the appropriate checks in place that we can grasp the extent of the problem; same goes for immigration, although that isn’t a ‘problem’. Thus I wish mr Cameron would wipe that stupid grin off his stupid mouth.

The Tories haven’t changed; they can’t without distancing themselves from their core voters, so Cameron’s show of compassionate conservatism is just that – a show! Beneath it, they’re the same old party which brought so much strife to this country before Labour sorted everything out. I just hope other people see that.

the problem to which I referred earrlier seems to have righted itself.

odd

Something is up with my rollerball. it is misbehaving. luckily, I think its tempory, but it really has pissed me off – I’m using keyboard commands.

what really does irritate me is when myy neighbour starts playinbg music – chav music. the type everyoe is listening to, thinkig theyre original when theyre just being sheep: part of the crowed. kieser chiefs are so uncool.

to remidy my pevedness, I just put hendrix on full volume, now jupiter’s playing. hopefully the zarking mouse will right itself soon. loud music cures all ills at least tonigt is pub night!

Last night I finished reading Moby-dick, and I doubt if I will ever read a finer book. i suppose the character I feel the most for is poor Starbuck, the first mate: he warned Ahab that what he was doing was insane, and I actually think there was a glimmer of hope when they both looked into each others eyes over the side, but Ahab was Ahab, and Ahab must have his whale! He knew that what he was doing as insane, but he was too wrapped up in the idea of revenging himself to stop. The first mate, Starbuck, should have killed him – he had a chance – but he was too much of a man of honour. As much as he wanted to see his wife ad son again, his sense of duty was too strong. I really feel for him, and, in a way, admire him.

Not for nought is Moby-Dick called one of the greatest books ever written. It is so layered, ranging from episode to episode, symbol to symbol, myth to myth that it begs to be re-read, and I plan to in a while. It is just so packed with thought-provoking metaphors, allusions to classical literature, and the most magnificent use of language that I was barely qualified to read it. Nevertheless, next time I’m asked what my favourite novel is, I’ll say Moby-dick.

I cannot give it a proper review after just one reading. I will, however, say this: Herman Melville, although at one stage poignantly predicting that the sperm whale would never become extinct, in a passage which jars against the conscious, was ahead of his time. In his book, we see the Piquod, under the megalomaniac Ahab, but today we also might see America itself on it’s own quest for revenge. The question is, is there a Starbuck who will stand up and stop the old man before it is too late?

[quote=”BBC news”url:http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/5068606.stm”%5DThe suicides of three detainees at the US base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, amount to acts of war, the US military says.[/quote]

I’m sorry, but I don’t see how suicide can be an act of war unless you are so desperate to stir up patriotic support for your poxy damn fool war that you’ll say anything!

What…

Just what?

It is, most definitely, too hot. It’s a peculiar thing about the English that we crave the heat all year, and when high summer finally comes, we flake out and start complaining about the heat. I must admit, I’m the worlds worst for this – I keep thinking ‘when will summer come?’ then, when it comes, long for cool rain.

Possibly the best thing about summer is cricket. Long, lazy afternoons, watching a game slowly unfold, beer I hand. There is nothing better: watching the tactical battle between bowler and batsman, as the…

Hold up. Apparently, if memory serves, a few men are playing football in Germany. This will mean the capital sport that is cricket will be ignored. Humbug! Thou ball-kickers, I gesticulate noisily at you!

Seriously though, I think I speak for us all when I say COME ON ENGLAND!

Woohoo; today my blog exceeded 100,000 hits! thatd definitely a milestone, but uite why all you lot want to read the garbage I post here is beyond me!

seriously, though, thanks for reading; lots more ramblings to come.

There is nothing I loathe more than bigotry. Today, I read on grouchy old cripple that islam could be considered a cancer. I am, I should point out, an atheist, and view all religions with concern, but the fact that this fool-of-a-blogger singles out Islam enrages me. It’s like me calling all Americans warmongers, just because bush is. There are fools in every tribe of man, but we shouldn’t hate all because the actions of the few. I like Americans; I have a few American friends. I have a Muslim mate, a nicer chap you will never meet. I’m quite sure that we all know people of different faiths, and we all get on peaceably. Why, look at Ishmael and Queequeg, from Moby dick (incidentally written by an American).

I do not hate anyone as a people; I just hate bigots.

Given the date, I thought I might link to this. it’s a bbc article about the day tv was switched back on. I love the popular folklore about the mickey mouse cartoon how like auntie, symbol of the stiff upper lip, to equate the second world war to a ‘rude interruption’?

I was rather confused when I saw Christmas decorations up in the canteen this morning. It struck me as odd, but then it left my mind – I had bigger things to ponder, like breakfast. The matter was not resolved until it thickened even further, when I entered the canteen to see the staff decked out in festive garb serving turkey for tea. Had I overslept by 6 months? No: it was the hottest day of the year.

This almost pythonesque scene was explained when one of the kitchen staff explained that the had surplus figgy pudding which needed eating. I collapsed into giggles, and asked for the stuffing.

Perhaps I sometimes forget my parent’s perspective. this is the extremely well written blog of an American with a young VOCA-using child; some entries illustrate how very concerned he is for his daughter, and how worried he is for her future. While I have no doubt that the child in question will succeed in whatever she may care to attempt, to a dad this may not be clear. The result is a poignant, beautiful blog. a great read