I suppose I better say something about ‘Pete’ from big brother, as apparently he has tourettes. I am, of course, all for increased portrayal of disabled folks in any media, as, by and large, I believe increasing the profiles of us cripples will lead to less prejudice towards us. This much is fairly obvious. However, I believe big brother is being very cynical in including a person with tourettes in their circus, as I have no doubt that they intend this ‘Pete’ fellow to exhibit the behaviour commonly associated with tourettes – the verbal twitch – for their own gratification. ‘Oh look, this chap cant stop swearing; isn’t it funny?’

In short, they’re taking the piss. Admittedly, the guy volunteered to go into the house, but no doubt he was chosen for his ‘comic’ value. It is as if we have not progressed from the days of the elephant man. Thus, this kind of representation will stifle rather than enhance understanding of disability.

Needless to say, I have nothing but contempt for the makers of this programme, those fools who seek fame my going on it, and the countless thousands who watch it. Why do we need this mindless drivel on our televisions? It teaches us nothing, it says nothing. It’s just cheap and pathetic: we could be watching a great drama which exposes a truth about being human, as all great dramas do; we could be watching a documentary showing us the wonders of our planet. Fiction or not, television can teach us things, but instead we are supposed to watch a few ninnies in a house. Its absolutely stupid.

Perhaps me and Esther should both get pigtails and pinafore dresses, for we were both jumping about like schoolgirls. A big wasp entered my room this morning and it might as well have been the Devil itself. We were both petrified, especially when it landed on my jumper. Esther ran out of the room, for a second I wondered what to do as I watched it crawling over me, then I decided to run out of the bungalow. Then I thought that it had disappeared, so I decided to go back in, but Esther said it was on my collar. At that moment I was almost I was almost wetting myself, I took my shirt and top off and threw it into the spare room. Both the wasp and my jumper are still in there, as we are both too scared to go and retrieve it.

I think pigtails would suit me.

Look What I’ve found: the new bond movie trailer, a film for which I cant wait. several questions arise though – the original was set during the cold war, shortly after ww2; how can they have a newly-promoted bond, but retain judi dench as M?

Rather ccooly, michael palin is off once more on another trip. this time he’s off to eastern europe. Something in me – the same part that makes my feet itch – loves his programmes; I can’t wait.

go look

What is the circumference of a moose?

Michael Palin with his face in a pie times Douglass Adams squared. lmao. had to be posted. link

My brother luke just made me aware of this site. It contains videos of an odd gentleman claiming to be a ninja. I think he is lying, but am too scared to tell him. Anyway, go watch.

Me, mum and dad just get in from the theatre in stoke, where we saw The new Statesman. It had been so long since I saw a play I had forgotten their unique joys. Granted, I have seen operas at the RNCM,, but they are entirely different; I have seen extracts at college performed by my friends, which, although entertaining, are unsubstantial; I have seen plenty of films, which are my first love but do not offer the ambiance one gets in the theatre. No, plays are things unto themselves, and I want to see more.

The new statesman starred Rik Mayall and is a very bawdy political satire: it is extremely up-to-date, including references to David Cameron, new labour, the war and terrorism. I would be willing to bet that the script is updated every morning after the director reads the daily papers. Much of it is spot on, but I felt, however, that parts were rather conservative, which got my goat. Mind you, politics in general gets my goat with more and more people being hoodwinked by Cameron and his acct. what is this crap about ‘happiness’ anyway? It’s a nonsense, but people are buying it. Stupid segregationist!

See? Every time politics comes up I end up getting angry. Pfft. It is, however,, a good thing that we have some media which can raise my heckles. The play had valid statements to make of politics. What statements does reality television make? None? I’m going to the theatre more often.

As a person who always opposed the Iraq war, I find this admission of errors from blair and bush very amusing. Mind you, I’d prefer them to admin they are both numpties, but it’s a start.

This is my first night home in two weeks, and between my trip to paris and to the Jones’ house, I have fallen out of touch with the news. Only this evening could I catch up, and I’m already sick of it. David Cameron’s call for ‘happiness’ seems a cheap ploy; Galloway is still a tosser; and the press seems obsessed with either big brother or Wayne Rooney. It’s all very silly: I could, and may well, blog on each item soon.

in the meantime, i’m off to bed – I need sleep.

When writing about Mrs Weasley, JK Rowling could have drawn inspiration from Mrs Jones, mother of my good friend Charlotte. Me and a couple of friends of mine were staying at their house in Chester last night, as we went to a gig there. It was kind of a techno/rock gig, which is not usually my cup of tea, but I must admit I did enjoy myself! It was a great atmosphere in general, and we had spent the afternoon walking around Chester talking shopping and drinking, so I was rather happy.

However, I must say I love the Jones’s house. First off, there is a trampoline in the front garden, which was lots of fun! Secondly, the place is chock full of books! They’re everywhere! I loved it for just that. Even in the bathroom. There’s also a wonderful music room, complete with baby grand piano. I fell in love with the house as soon as I stepped over the threshold. It felt like home.

Mrs Jones herself is an extremely homely woman whom it seems impossible to phase. By most accounts she is an excellent cook, and made some excellent baked spuds last night. I will almost certainly try to get myself invited to their place again! (that is, if they’ll have me)

I’m enjoying life more and more these days; even cool seems an inadequate adjective. My friends are so cool, I’m doing stuff I once doubted I ever could – like sleeping at a friends after an awesome gig. ‘Cripple’ my arse! I can do anything anyone else can…even trampolining!

Wanderlust is a strange thing indeed, for the more you try to quench it the stronger it gets. Now, having returned from Paris last night, it’s stronger than ever. In short, my trip to Paris ruled; it was the trip to end all trips. The six of us who went got on rather well, everyone chipping in with my care, even my lecturer Alan. Must admit, given the hassle we had getting me through the Paris metro I couldn’t help but keep apologising, as I felt guilty. Alan and the guys told me t stop apologising, but I couldn’t help it. I stopped when Alan threatened to give me a third.

Where can I begin to sum up the greatest weekend in the greatest city? It’s impossible! The weather was awful at times, but that did not stop us; the food was brilliant. Goddard is a genius, and the festival was amazing, although the Pompidou centre managed to totally balls up the screening of Weekend. Mind you, it was Goddard, so only we could tell the difference. Heretics!

It was all simply amazing. I loved every minute. Just…WOW! I love Paris, I love my life, I’m just happy!

To Steve, Darren, Jenny, Nat and Alan, thankyou; I love you all.

Today is a good day – a very good day. I have finally finished my film essay and will hand it in at eleven at Crewe. Hurrah. Not sure about it’s content though: Alan Fair will either think it a work of genius or bin it, decrying my predilection to go off on tangents. I’m just happy its finished, but at the same time I’m rather proud of it. It’s on the extent to which film can be seen as a language; given the chance, I’d like to continue the subject at MA or PhD level, for it is quite fascinating, especially trying to work out the role synesthesia plays in it. I may be wrong, but I think synesthesia may underlie all film form.

Anyway, we also once again won the pub quiz yesterday. Huzzah! Mind you, there were ten of us, so the odds were stacked. In the end, it was won on a tie break, and who else did we get to pick the key but good old switch. I’m a tenner better off this morning, which more than covered the cost of my beers.

University is probably the best thing I ever did – looking back at the shy little individual I once was, I am amazed. Once I was afraid to leave home, but while my parent’s house has it’s creature comforts, I find it too restrictive. I feel more independent than ever before.

Tomorrow I’m off to Paris with some of my film class. While I’m apprehensive, I’m really looking forward to it. Whereas I used to fear going anywhere without mum and dad, non of that fear resides. The demarcation point, I believe, was the berlin trip, for it was then I realised that, given the proper support, I could do anything I wanted. Moreover, it was during my trip to Berlin, that Becca and Kate first came into contact with me.

Those two women changed my life; they convinced me that I was fundamentally no different than everyone else; Becca – I hope she won’t mind me saying – taught me I too could be loved for who I am. It was Kate who introduced me to Onevoice, an organisation with which I’m proud to be involved; in fact it is this aspect of my life which I’m most proud of. I’m happy these two people came into my life.

Anyway, I better get to Crewe to hand that essay in. have a good day everyone.

I have been thinking about the words I used a couple of days ago which some readers objected to. At first, I was looking for ways to justify my use of the word c**t as I feel that any word is a tool to be used; but then I did a bit of analysis. I realised that this word is a metonym – that is, part of something used to stand for the whole of something. Hence the word keel is used as a metonym for a ship. This made me realise how foolish my use of that word was: in effect, it reduced all women to a small part of their anatomy, which is quite abhorrently sexist, and also meant that I was calling mr Cameron a woman, which is very juvenile and foolish, especially since I like womens so much! Indeed, I dress as one sometimes!

Seriously though, I am sorry I used that word; it is a silly word to use, especially given the plethora of other words I could use. I apologise for any offence.

For ten years I have hunted something: ever since I saw first contact, I have sought the quote from Moby dick cited by Picard. I tried reading the book online a couple of times, but always got distracted somehow. So, two weeks ago I bought a copy, at last, and today I found what I was after on page 185/6 of the Penguin classics edition, also to be found here.

[quote=”Moby dick”]He piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it.[/quote] the captain’s memory must have been fading

this is more proof that the torygraph is written by halfwits up their own arses. It’s an art review by a supposed critic decrying the fact that the art of mentally ill people have been placed alongside the works of the likes of bacon. Now, as a man currently going through the ‘great’ that is Moby-dick, I cannot deride classicism; I just think that all art is worth something, be in by Mellevile or myself. Just because its by someone outside the range of what is considered normal does not mean it is worthless.

The writer of this report should get off his high horse: everyone can contribute to the human experience, not just those considered to be great. I mean, is myy writing worthless because I have CP? No.

I am, I must admit, exhausted today. Yesterday was the night of the summer ball at university, and it was, as last year , spectacular. As promised, my friends switch,

Vikki and charlotte did a fire-poi display (I especially like Switch’s impression of the bunny of doom); there was a waltzer, which I rode with charlotte and Emma (yay!) and, in general, we had lots of fun.

The one down side was the footballers – they were particularly crass and stupid last night; some were dressed as Hitler, giving the Nazi salute and grinning as though they were being clever; some were picking on my friend Emma, of whom I have become particularly fond recently (well…I am fond of most of my friends: they are all dear to me). I was, in short, disgusted by the footballer’s behaviour.

I had intended to stay up, but somehow, in brandies, I was oozing off by the end. It was also quite cold in my costume. My friends kept wanting me to dance, but I was falling asleep on my feet. Where they get their energy I’ll never k0now.

Nevertheless, it was a great night, and I think we all had fun, especially Spiderman, aka Steve, who was happy as a schoolboy in his costume.

On another, more serious note, I apologise for my language in yesterday’s entry.

I’m going off politics, I think. It gets me way too angry. The Tories are now ahead in the polls as more and more people are being fooled by Cameron. Do they not realise that his ‘nice guy’ image is just a show and deep down he’s a loathsome little cunt? This makes me so angry; as soon as his ‘party’ gets in we’re back to the bad old days of the eighties and early nineties, with big business allowed to pollute the environment and trample over people. Despite pretending to care about the environment, Cameron does not give a shit.

Every time I read of the Tories, my blood rises. They have vowed to return to segregated education, and therefore must be stopped. It is this one policy which allows me to forgive labour their many errors. I have seen what special schools are, and will not allow them to continue. the arguments posed by those who want to keep them do not wash: sure they offer a nice safe environment for kids to grow up in – where blind and deaf culture, for instance, can floorers – but what about the long term? Come age nineteen, the lethargy persists and hence the kid is screwed. Moreover, the ore disabled kids are segregated, the less we can integrate into society.

Hence Cameron must be fought. I will deride him at every turn. As for the Tory bent towards capitalism, it is free-market capitalism which is polluting the environment; in the long term, it is disastrous! Why can’t others see this?

I get so angry when it comes to politics. Labour is destroying itself, and the people who are calling for Blair to leave sooner rather than later seem suicidal. The best way to win the next election is for brown to take over just before it, coasting to victory before he has time to screw up. If he takes over too soon, this will not happen, Cameron will be elected, and I will not be happy.

Anyway, no more politics. Tonight is the summer ball. I think it’ll be a night to remember!

I’m not sure where they got it from, but recently my friends have become hooked on something called poi. Poi, you may or may not know, is a Maori pastime which involves spinning balls about your head on string. This may sound stupid at first, but it looks brilliant. My friends are quite proficient at it, and can now do several tricks. They even let me try sometimes – I twirl the ball around, then tie myself up accidentally.

What is even cooler is when they set them alight! Switch and Vikki are going to do this at the summer ball on Friday. I first saw this the night of Steve’s party, and I loved it. I mean…fire! Balls of fire twilling around! How cool is that?

Talking of Vikki, we totally aced our presentation yesterday. Awesome.

As you can probably guess, I’m very happy this morning. My time at university has been the happiest in my life. Some days, just about everything seems cool.

Today should be fun. We get to show the video me and vikki have been working on for the last few weeks – my first proper short. It’s about crossing gender boundaries, and making it was a lot of fun. Indeed, I got to dress up!

What’s more, we got to work in the editing suite. The computers in there rule: they have not one but three screens – two pc monitors side by side and a tv screen for the video output. On this you can edit videos (not sure what the software is called, but it’s by adobe). Switch, who kindly helped me and Vikki, made it look very easy, so much so that I want a go. That reminds me – I owe switch a beer!

Suddenly, my one monitor looks very inadequate. Anyway, fingers crossed for a good reception later.

Although I do not condone the use of the H-word, this short film is so cool. Its about a psychopath in a wheelchair with a knife. He chases this girl around school. Hehehe. Gives me an idea about a certain one eyed cat. One day, Brandy. One day!

I feel I should say something about the use of monochrome heightening the tension, or the juxtaposition of the music being ironic, saying something of the position of disabled people in society, but bugger that. It’s just cool.

Sometime in the early eighties, before I was born, my parents were driving home from a day trip one weekend. Apparently, they passed a place on the way which sold cream teas, and they decided to stop. They must have been quite taken with the place, for they later took me and my brothers to Amerton farm.

It became a favourite venue for my family. I loved the place: it had a tractor! I loved being sat upon the seat of an old rusty broken-down tractor which sat in the field, dad holding me upright. I could have spent hours pretending to drive it. We went there around the time of my birthday during my formative years, stopping when I was about eight. The place also had a giant in the back of the restaurant which dad and I used to search for after we had eaten. We never found it, but it was definitely there.

In the en, we grew out of it. The tractor was taken away – it became too old and dangerous, and I guess the giant moved on. The place was becoming too commercial, too big, too popular. It was not the same place my parents found that afternoon, nor was it the place I once loved. We stopped going, and I forgot about it.

Yet, no memory ever truly disappears from the brain. This morning, I was coming back from breakfast, and I heard a radio playing a local commercial station. I caught a part of an advert for Amerton Family park. It was in roughly the same place as my childhood haunt. Memories came flooding back. It’s funny how, here and now at uni, the past can suddenly jump at you, and you remember your old self. I remembered, in that moment, the lace of my childhood fantasies.

Only time and tide await no man. That place is gone, and what remains is an enterprise large enough to advertise on local radio. It will be just another tourist attraction now; no wonder the giant drove off on the tractor.

Last night there was a small concert in the dance studio. A couple of my friends were in it, and I thought I’d go along. To be honest, I expected something similar to last time, full of odd experimental music, but I was pleasantly surprised. There was an excellent gospel choir which, among other things, sang ‘come down to the river’, from oh brother where art thou; they played a piece of Mozart; there were a few quite excellent electric guitar pieces; and I especially liked the medley of songs from musicals they did at the end. In all, quite a good evening.

My friend charlotte was the main organiser of last night. She did a very good job of it. Her family came ad I seem to have impressed her younger sister and brother apparently I was the main event for them, as in, on the phone to their father, ‘hi dad, we met this cool guy called mat who had a cool wheelchair and uses a computer to speak’. Charlotte told me this in the pub afterwards, and can’t help but smile; I’m glad I can make such a good impression. We discussed my going to their place for a weekend in summer; this would be very cool indeed, although I wouldn’t want to put charlotte or her family to too much hassle.

All in all, last night was very cool indeed. I was quite wrong in my review of the previous event; I must have been in a bad mood.

To a large extent academia is a very sheltered environment. It is, to be sure, ozone that values intelligence and mental normality, but for people with a physical disability, it is very welcoming;. At college,, my group of friends accept me for who I am; they help me whenever it’s needed, from helping me make tea to walking me home at night. The slight patronising tones of the kitchen staff aside, I do not feel I am discriminated against in any way at college.

But, as I say, academia is very sheltered. It is a bubble of usually intelligent people, where often my biggest concern ibis whether I’ll get an assignment done on time, or whether I’ve included too little theoretical stuff in my essay. Yet, outside of the bubble, away from the parties and the intellectual freedom, is a world of discrimination against disable people.

As far as I can make out, there are four people with physical disabilities on campus. That’s far too few, on my opinion. Four out of 5000 is a disproportionately small number. I do not think that the problem lies with selection – my lecturers seemed all too keen to take me in, but I think I impressed them when I mentioned two film theorists in the interview. Rather, discrimination against the disabled happens before that.

I think there is an expectation at school level that the disabled are unable to cope with higher education, or much education at all for that matter. This leads to many disabled kids going to second rate schools, and this will have a major effect. For this stifling will mean problems getting jobs etc, as well as problems fighting for our rights. How can we effectively fight for social justice when we are denied the foundation of democracy – education? For example, say someone asks for a ramp to be put in place on a public building, and the MP he’s negotiating with starts citing old writs which the disabled person cannot access due to his illiteracy? The disabled person has essentially been repressed because the playing field is not level.

Thus I will argue that segregated education is the root of all evil, at least when it comes to discrimination against disabled people. Whenever two sets of people are educated separately, moreover, they learn to fear each other. This applies to gender, religion or ability. Kids who go to catholic schools learn to fear protestants; girls who go to girls-only schools often fear boys, and so on. Comprehensive education came about for this reason, to prevent the class divide, the gender gap and the religious gap. Why does it still apply to disability?

Until education is fully inclusive, and all special schools abolished, disabledism will continue to exist. Why, today, should one group be segregated from the rest? I see no difference between this and apartheid, for all the barriers to inclusion can be easily overcome. It would just take some imagination, and the opening of minds.

see the diary of a goldfish

It’s probably a safe bet that Charles Clarke is going to go. There’s no denying that the current situation with regard to released prisoners is a fiasco, but do you really think it would not have happened under the Tories? Indeed, the only reason this problem emerged is because of a tracking system labour initiated. Before that we had no idea what the fuck was going on! Now a new tracking system is implemented, ensuring a little more accountability, and what happens? It shows up a problem which probably happened under Howard when he was home sectary. Goddamn hypocrites.

What gets my goat even more is the opposition and the right-leaning tabloids making this a big issue: it’s the governments fault, they cry, relating the issue to immigration. They seem to want to tie this issue to the rightist’s straw man in an obvious effort to incense the public. Oh please! I’m sorry, but no matter what David Cameron says, and no matter what the rag known as the Express may want you to believe, to speak of imposing limits on immigration is racist, at least as things stand. Britain is a prosperous nation, and we can afford, easily, to house these people. The only reason to impose limitations on the number of people coming into this country is if it would cause privations to the existing residents, and this is absolutely not the case. Thus the people who speak of these things are naught but xenophobes. Ok, perhaps these prisoners should have been deported, but that is an unrelated issue the mindless hacks at the express and the mail want to tie together.

There will be a reason why they weren’t: I daresay deporting them would have put them in danger. After all, they were at the end of their sentences. They had served their time: Clarke had no idea that they were going to re-offend.

I just wish the Tories would not criticise the government for not being as racist as they are. Fucking hypocrites.

worryingly, soon after I made the entry before this, a friend askedd me to take this test. I got 18%

For the last few days I have been mulling over a rather strange idea. Recently, for some reason, I’ve been into star trek again, and two days ago I was struck by a thought: in star trek, Klingons are famed for their operas, but given that so much has been created about the Klingons – Hamlet has been translated into Klingon, for god’s sake – why has nobody made an opera in Klingon? I have decided to try to rectify this.

I like opera. I have been to two at the RNCM (as good as any opera company) and, although I couldn’t relax on the night I went to Puccini’s La Rondine, enjoyed them both immensely. I find the art form powerful, as music can often express what prose cannot. Mind you, having seen two hardly qualifies me as an expert, but this can be rectified.

Mind you, I suspect Klingon opera will be very different from that which I heard magnificently performed up in Manchester. That was subtle, whereas Klingon opera will have to be harsh – indeed, it will have to sound completely alien (forgive the pun) to conventional music. In which case, my almost total lack of musical knowledge may be an advantage.

However, first I need to learn Klingon, which is a big problem. Then I need to set it to music. I’ll probably need to find a story, or create one in the Klingon bat’leth wielding style. This will be quite a challenge, but maybe I can get my drama student friends to perform it. That is a cool thought. It’d certainly make a cool film.

Hmm.

Although it is a clunky word, I feel that disabledism – prejudice against disabled people – is clearly present in today’s society. Many people still hold antiquated views about us crips; in many small ways, we are discriminated against daily. This is why, on may 1st, I’ll be blogging against disabledism. Details can be found here.

it might not be a whheelchair, and I’d have nowhere to put it, but I want one of these. the three-wheeled chasis just looks so cool, kind of like a fighter jet wthout the wings. It’s ozone friendly too, which is always good. plus, 60mph may not sound fast, but it’s faster than my chair’s 8.

My neighbour mark very kindly let me watch the concluding part of Sharpe on his TV this evening. There are very few things on television worth watching these days, which is part of the reason I do not have a telly at uni, but I’m a fan of sharpe. He is a man who rose from the ranks, one of us normal people who made it. I loved the original, butI was very surprised when they chose to resurrect the series given its age. Perhaps Boromir’s line in FOTR that the shards of narsil were ”still shaarp” was a hint, although given that film was made 6 years ago, I doubt it. Still, it makes you wonder.

We just got in from visiting Yaiya in London. It’s Greek Easter so we went down for the church service. We usually go early to get a good seat, which means we have time to kill, and since religion is not my favourite thing, I thought I’d select a book. My grandmother has a modest collection, mostly of mums, uncle Aki’s and aunt Toullas old books. Aki read philosophy at uni, so the book which caught my eye – due to it’s psuediness – was called The Dialogues of Plato.

We got to the church and dad started reading to me. I love it when he does this: I value my literacy greatly, and love reading to myself, but my father has the voice of an orator, and I find it very pleasant indeed. I think it reminds me of nights long since past when he read to us before bed. Thus, Dad read, and time passed. Then, dad pointed out something unusual, and to me of great interest. The date of printing for this book was 1893: it was 115 years old. It was new in the days of queen Victoria, when the troubled times of the last century were in the future. My uncle must have bought it second hand, or even 3rd. quite incredible to think of what that book must have seen.

While I am not contemplating anything as rash as voting for them, the Tories’ new stance on climate change is t be welcomed. It is, after all, one of the major issues of our age, and something my generation must face up to. I agree with him when Cameron says this s not a party-political issue, but something everyone must deal with.

I want to dismiss this as a gimmick on Cameron’s part, but cannot do so in good conscience. I think to dismiss him jut because he is a Tory is wrong, and a sign of a closed mind. On the other hand, he makes me very uneasy: he is looking more and more electable, and if this happens, something I care passionately for – inclusive education – dies. He has proposed a moratorium on the closure of all special schools.

As a ‘survivor’ of such a school (what an unfortunate term that is, given the situation of some of my classmates) I have seen first hand how such places fail kids.

Perfectly bright teenagers unable to read; students not being pushed. This problem is innate to such places, and it is only through inclusion that kids can flourish.

Yet, for many, this is why Cameron appeals. They see inclusion as a disaster, and agree with him when he says inclusion has gone too far; they, like him, inaccurately see inclusion as a money-saving scheme, although it would cost more than segregation in reality . Indeed, he has a disabled son so he should know.

This logic baffles me. I saw countless times how parents approved of what Hebden was doing, even though it was obviously failing kids. Their child could not read, but it was okay because they were happy at Hebden. This obviously is a problem which stems from low expectations of disabled children across the board: the assumption that we will never amount to anything much because of our disability, made by both teachers and parents, so why try hard to educate us? After all, work would only make us miserable.

This is why Cameron should not be heeded on this subject. He may have low expectations for his son, but I do not. Disabled kids do not need coddling; they need to be among their peers, disabled or not. Properly-supported inclusion is the only way to prevent the betrayal of thousands of kids.

More and more people are listening to Cameron; he sounds like a reasonable man, but segregation is anything but reasonable. I must, I know, sound like a broken record on this subject, and it probably is not high on many people’s agendas, but it is high on mine fore it concerns the education and thus the prosperity of millions of children. I have seen it first hand, and segregation is not the way forward.

I want one of these chairs quite badly. They look so cool, don’t they? the problem is, with that chair and my lightwriter, I could be mistaken for johnny 5 off Short Circuit.

While my first love is film, I take a keen interest in science, especially biology and earth science, as well as astronomy. I know my understanding is on a superficial level, but I am constantly amazed by nature and natural phenomena. It’s what draws me towards natural history programmes like a moth to a flame: it’s all just so damn beautiful. Anyway, this article about a joint US-Russian expedition to lake Vostok excites me; who knows what they may find in the dark abyss, which last saw sunlight aeons ago. If there are hydrothermal vents down there, there could be an ecosystem completely different to that found elsewhere. Moreover, I’m guessing that’ll have implications for finding life elsewhere in the universe.

I think I’ll add Dan Cruickshank to my list of favourite TV presenters. As with Michael Palin or David Attenborough, he seems to have an enthusiasm for his subject which makes his programmes very entertaining. They also have the same scope.

Last night he was presenting a programme on a man who made one of the first ever travel documentaries; what made it so special is it was filmed in rudimentary colour. While we probably cannot derive much new information from these 80 year old films – their scope is too narrow to say anything important – they offer insight into people’s relationship to the camera. Then cameras were new, novel. Thus in their reactions to the camera we see their reactions to the modern world – a rapidly changing world. Thus in this film we see people on the verge of modernity, which is what makes this programme fascinating.

I also like the comparisons Crookshank makes. It’s interesting to note how much and how little things have changed. The world is at once eternal and ever changing, a fact which this programme makes clear. It’s just a shame I’ll be at uni when the remaining episodes are aired.

.

see http://www.bbc.co.uk/history

I was reading the culture section of the Sunday times this morning. It’s review of Saturday’s episode of Dr. Who mentioned something called Torchwood. I just googled that title, and it seems Torchwood is a Dr Who Spin-off.

Now, I have nothing against sequels or spin offs. After all, star trek’s numerous spin-offs were very enjoyable, often bettering the original. I need hardly remind you, too, that my favourite book (well, one of them), the Lord of the Rings, is a sequel to the Hobbit. Therefore I see nothing wrong with such things.

However, I do not feel that captain Jack is a strong enough character to hold his own show. He just seemed to me to be a third unnecessary main character; the sort of character who had a few lines but you do not really notice. I could be wrong, and perhaps he cold be fleshed out in his own show.

It also raises the question of whether the universe Dr Who inhabits can cope. Dr Who has always been about a single, central figure, and the programmes have always focalised upon that figure. We can compare this with, say, star trek TOS, which had its focus upon a ship and it’s crew, allowing one to conjecture the existence of a bigger fleet. Thus, when the time came, viewers could accept the existence of other crews existing in other parts of the same universe. This universe, moreover, was very detailed – we knew, say, that the Klingons are a warrior race from Qo’nos – and with this detail star trek’s writers could tie each incarnation together. Dr. who differs from this because it is too vast, too sprawling: the Doctor has visited numerous times and places; indeed the very nature of the doctor is that he is a traveller. Apart from the Daleks and Cyber Men, nothing seems particularly fixed in his world.

This may be a problem for Torchwood. Unlike the original, they will have to fix it in a time and place, which, according to this, is Cardiff. The question is, does the universe created in the original have the integrity to support a spin-off. Dr Who was very fantastical, and it seems that this series would strive to be more serious. Can the universe adapt?

I am not sure it can. Dr Who was kitsch, loved for it’s dodgy plots and even dodgier scenery. It was science fantasy, not science fiction, and this new series wants to jump genres. This leap is, arguably, bigger than that taken between TOS and TNG, as the concepts behind the two were not all that different. I think this is a bad idea on the part of the beeb, but only time, and ratings figures, will tell.

It seems my rationale for disliking the Americans breaks down when it comes to television and films. Each time I watch the West Wing, I find it harder and harder to condemn them all as stupid, for I maintain that programme to be the most intelligent drama on TV today. How can they all be stupid when they can make such programmes? Then I remember that only half of them are stupid.

Seriously, though: I do not hate America: I have spent four happy holidays there; one of my favourite authors was born just outside Chicago; Americans have pioneered many sciences. Yet the yanks just seem so arrogant – to them, they single-headedly won the second world war; they claim every cool invention as their own, including the internet; they also think that democracy was their invention. It also really peeves me to see how unwilling they are to see things from other point’s of view. For example, I get angry when I see this guy slagging off Islam.

I must remember, however, that it isn’t just the Americans. There are bad eggs in every batch; think BNP, think Le Penn. The moment I condemn the whole of America for the actions of their government and the ratings on a few blogs, I become ass bad as them. I think everyone must keep things in perspective, and try to look at things from every side, which is, I think, what the people I get so angry with refuse to do.

Paradoxically, this is why I think blogs like Grouchy old Cripple are good, for, although I hate most of their content, their point of view is as valid as anyone else’s. objectivity, I have realised, is a myth, as there is always more than two ways of looking at things. There is no truth, only debate. Even scientists ever conclude things absolutely, but always leave room for more evidence.

I’m afraid this entry has developed into a chain of thought. It started off as a piece on the west wing, but just as last night’s programme went into the debate over abortion, it showed us how complex everything is. It reminded me of the simple truth that nothing is ever simple. Great TV should always have the power to make you think.

Although it isn’t yet the headline story in most news programmes, I’m becoming more and more concerned with the situation with regard to Iran. To be honest, I find their statement that they want to make nuclear energy only dubious: if the wanted energy, why not use solar? Iran is a sunny place after all, and it wouldn’t piss so many people off. Thus, I think they are indeed after nuclear weapons.

However, having said that, so what? Britain, the states, France china and Russia have the bomb, but nobody is worried. Where is it written that only we should have the bomb. Alright, Iran is under an oppressive regime, but I might remind you that the only country ever to use such weapons was a democracy; one which recently suggested it might use them again. If the states has nukes, why shouldn’t the Iranians?

Ok, I haven’t gone completely nuts, but there are principals here to stick by. Which is more worrying: a country which has recently declared two wars, is lead by a religious zealot and where execution is still legal having the bomb, or Iran?

I really think another war is coming.

My parents are home, and Luke has had to go back to Manchester. It’s a shame because I enjoy his company, and I’m sure mum and dad would have liked him to stay here a while, but I think he needed too get on with work. Because he went, I’ve had to revert to my older pc – the new one needed to be packed and ready to go back to university. For some reason, this pc claims it is 00.03, although it is about quarter to 6; I do not have access rights to change the clock. Because of this, I can’t get on to msn network – my prime means of communication with my friends. Indeed, I do not know if I can post to my blog, so this post should test that. If it works, I plan to say something about Iran soon: I feel a war coming.

It has been reported on ouch and elsewhere that golfer Tiger Woods said he thought he played like a spaz after loosing the recent open. The question I have now is, should I be offended? Indeed, I refer too myself as a spaz all the time – many disabled people do. Like crip, it is a word we claimed back for ourselves, and now it carries connotations of fraternity, the idea that we face a common struggle, etc.

However, for a non-crip to use it is different. As the article linked to above makes clear, it is rather like the N-word for black people, and the word Queer. Only certain people can use it. I still regard the word spaz as a term of abuse in some instances, and therefore am offended. The inability to knock a small ball into a hole with a stick does not mean you have cp.

It’s funny how problems can occur to you in dreams, or in REM-like, half asleep states. Last night I was struck with a moment of paranoia: it’s unlikely ever to happen, but what if I am ever arrested by the police and do not have access to my lightwriter? Now, I haven’t done anything that the police would want me for (to my knowledge anyway) but this raises quite a serious issue. How would I communicate with them? How do I tell them who I am? How do I tell them I do not have learning difficulties? Do I tap out the primes on the table or what.

Joking aside, this is of quite some importance to me. To my knowledge, the right to a communication aid is not guaranteed by law; hence those who do not get communication aids are virtually defenceless. Presumably, policemen, upon arrest, would deprive someone of their VOCA, not knowing what it was. In such a position, such a person would be defenceless.

Given that we crips are no less capable of criminality than anyone else, I think police should be trained about VOCAs. Moreover, it should be illegal to deprive anyone of such a device, and that access to this equipment should be guaranteed by law. This would maintain everyone’s basic human right to speech.

It’s not that I’m worried about it, just puzzled, and as usual I think writing about it would sort it out in my head. There appears to be two spheres of my life, my two greet interests which are almost polar opposites. On the one side, I fancy myself as an explorer: I am captivated by stories of exploration and adventure – of how cook sailed into the unknown aboard Endeavour; I love seeing the natural beauty within David Attenborough’s programmes; I love to explore the world with Michael Palin. Fictionally, my heroes include James Bond and Jean-luc Picard; I love the suave sophistication of bond, how he always wins the day without a mark on his tuxedo. I love how Picard is a captain from the finest tradition of naval and dramatic history – well rounded, slightly reserved, yet flawed.

All these men get to see exotic places; they are all explorers. They are also very masculine, especially Bond who is quite a misogynist. I have this great wanderlust, this great desire to follow my heroes into the unknown – I want to sail thee seas in a sailing ship, I want to see the great barrier reef, I want to climb the Andes and the Himalayas, I want to sail down the Nile and see the tombs of the kings. While in no way do I think these male-only provinces, they are incredibly masculine things to do, and this raises my curiosity.

In other areas of my life, I desire the feminine. I relax by pulling on the trappings of femininity, or rather what I see as them. I love to pull on my leotards and tights; I love to co-ordinate my outfits; recently I bought an adorable blue party frock with a white trim from a charity store, and now want petticoats for it. I love the feeling of being zipped into it. I know it’s illogical – going to the loo in such a garment is a nightmare, especially for me – and I recognise that many see it as perverted. I just find it makes me happy, and see no harm in it. I might add that it’s important to me to keep these two spheres separate – I dislike, for example, wearing girl’s underwear under a suit, something very masculine.

Yet how do I square these two parts of me? Palin and Attenborough wear shirts and chinos when presenting, not tutus. How can I make sense of these two opposite sides? After all, it would not be wise to climb mountains in, say, pink fishnet tights and a ra ra skirt. As I say, I’m not worried about this per se – I do not lie awake at night questioning why I am how I am – but it strikes me as more than a little paradoxical. It seems that, just as I want to explore the earth, part f me wants to explore the feminine.

I do knot know the solution. Indeed, do I need to solve it? I think not, as long as it’s harmless. I admit it’s a sort of fetish, but I see no harm in being open about such things, lest we all become incredibly repressed. I also hope that I am not thought of any differently for being open about these things.