How to write a paper in college/university:

Sit in a straight, comfortable chair in a well lit place in front of your computer.

Log onto MSN and ICQ (be sure to go on away!). Check your email.

Read over the assignment carefully, to make certain you understand it.

Walk down to the vending machines and buy some chocolate to help you concentrate.

Check your email.

Call up a friend and ask if he/she wants to go to grab a coffee. Just to get settled down and ready to work.

When you get back to your room, sit in a straight, comfortable chair in a clean, well lit place.

Read over the assignment again to make absolutely certain you understand it.

Check your email.

You know, you haven’t written to that kid you met at camp since fourth grade. You’d better write that letter now and get it out of the way so you can concentrate.

Look at your teeth in the bathroom mirror.

Grab some mp3z off of kazaa.

Check your email. ANY OF THIS SOUND FAMILIAR YET?!

MSN chat with one of your friends about the future. (ie summer plans).

Check your email.

Listen to your new mp3z and download some more.

Phone your friend on the other floor and ask if she’s started writing yet. Exchange derogatory emarks about your prof, thecourse, the college, the world at large.

Walk to the store and buy a pack of gum. You’ve probably run out.

While you’ve got the gum you may as well buy a magazine and read it.

Check your email.

Check the newspaper listings to make sure you aren’t missing something truly worthwhile on TV.

Play some solitare (or age of legends!).

Check out bored.com.

Wash your hands.

Call up a friend to see how much they have done, probably haven’t started either.

Look through your housemate’s book of pictures from home. Ask who everyone is.

Sit down and do some serious thinking about your plans for the future.

Check to see if bored.com has been updated yet.

Check your email and listen to your new mp3z.

You should be rebooting by now, assuming that windows is crashing on schedule.

Read over the assignment one more time, just for heck of it.

Scoot your chair across the room to the window and watch the sunrise.

Lie face down on the floor and moan.

Punch the wall and break something.

Check your email.

Mumble obscenities.

5am – start hacking on the paper without stopping. 6am -paper is finished.

Complain to everyone that you didn’t get any sleep because you had to write that stupid paper.

Go to class, hand in paper, and leave right away so you can take a nap.

Having just got my first assignment, posting this seemed appropriate!

It would appear that the ouch podcast is getting increasingly political, as the most recent has David Blunkett as it’s guest. His appearance there raises a few interesting questions though, such as to what extent should a disabled MP be expected to speak about disability issues, even if he was elected to do something else? This the programme itself explores: should a disability be incidental, or an innate part of one’s being? I personally believe that one should balance the two: be proud of one’s disability, but don’t be consumed by it.

link

All I can say to this is ‘well, D’uh!’. I could have told them that attacking Iraq would make matters worse; a million people who went to the march in protest could have done so. But no, we went to war in the terrifyingly stupid belief that by killing terrorists their numbers would decrease.

How idiotic can you get?

I would dearly have loved to see the burrow again. Most of my friends are in Chester this weekend, at charlotte’s; she invited me – in fact she invited me almost as soon as we saw each other on Monday morning – and I told her that I would think about it. I certainly wanted to go, as almost my whole cohort of friends were going, and I knew it would have been a lot of fun, but as far as I could see there were two problems:

1.transport. How was I going to get there? Of course, I could always have cadged a lift of someone, or asked Steve if I could go with him via train. This was, I knew the most minor of the two problem

2.this is my first weekend staying at university, and as such it’s the first time home help have come to me of a Saturday morning. JB, who arranges things like my care, had gone to a lot of effort to arrange a weekend call for me. The last thing I wanted to do was confuse the whole system by cancelling my very first call. Okay, I know what some of you are thinking:; ‘if you had a personal assistant for breakfast instead of homecare, there’d be no problem.’ This is true, but homecare do offer certain advantages, inflexible though they are, such as reliability. Plus, I’ve only had my new PA a week, and I better build up some time with her before actually doing the mad stuff.

Oh well; I think I did the right thing, but this didn’t stop me getting rather bitter about it last night. It was okay, in the end, though – I took myself to brandies and had about five pints of tetley’s.

At this rate I’ll die of exhaustion. I went to another party last night, this time in Crewe. I was invited by Rob, and, having turned him down in favour of going to the pub on Tuesday, I felt I better go. Jim gave me a lift.

I swear, rob’s going to be the end of me. As on Wednesday, nobody was dancing to the rock band on stage. As a 3rd year, I thought I had better respond to rob’s request and set an example by dancing. So, with his help, I walked down the steps onto the dance floor, and…well…danced. Surprisingly, I didn’t fall over, even after the couple of beers I ad been drinking with some freshers! I jigged about; Rob ran about like a mad thing; my good friend Martin came over too, and a good time was had by all. Rob told me that th band – whose name I forget – are touted as ‘the next big thing, and I could certainly believe it.

I better say, as new student activities officer, Robert Crol is brilliant. I have never seen this place so buzzing. He has so much lined up; I only hope he can maintain the momentum.

Mind you, I might not be able to.

I was wrong yesterday. I had expected a regular disco, but with samba beats; what I got was a real samba band. It was set up in the axis theatre, where the samba band had been hired in from Birmingham – after the show, the audience was supposed to o to brandies next door.

The English are a funny lot. The seating platforms in the theatre had been pushed back, leaving the flat floor which could only mean one thing – they wanted the audience to dance. Being British and reserved, however, they just sat on the floor, like primary school children in an assembly. To them, this was a performance, and the right etiquette had to be followed. Thus, to begin with, nobody was dancing.

I tried to lead by example by jigging my chair about, and towards the end of the show, most people were on their feet – my mate rob (now student activities officer) was jumping around like a loon. But some people stayed sat on the floor. Weird.

Anyway, last night was cool after all. I still say Christina would have shown everyone how to do it, but she’s way too clever to even be on campus! Nevertheless, if this is the type of thing Rob’s going to organise, I’m looking forward to this year.

Tonight is, apparently, samba night at brandies. I heard this last night, and my eyebrow instantly rose – I had visions of lines of northern girls trying to do something resembling a samba, thinking they look good but failing.

It also reminded me of quite aa cool night out I recently had in London. My Brazilian aunt and cousin took me, Luke and my parents to a pagodgy – a Brazilian / Portuguese bar. There, over a few beers, my cousin Christina taught my folks to samba, which was rather an amusing image. Chris certainly has rhythm, and I’m tempted to invite her up from oxford so she an show everyone how samba should be, although I doubt she could come at such short notice. Oh well, I should have a few giggles tonight anyway, especially given that most girls will be very scantily clad indeed. hmm

I was just looking for a video my bro Luke showed me about the universe, and I stumbled on to this. it’s about a camp in America which apparently intends to teach children to be ‘soldiers of Christ’. Now, I do not mind people being religious – until I read hawkin, I used to be very religious myself. But when kids are being so obviously brainwashed, and told they have to believe in the bible without question, I think we should all be worried.

I need hardly remind you guys: academia is all about questions. It’s about debate. One researcher poses a question, another might answer, but it does not stop there. Research is a never ending debate where we can never be and must never be absolutely certain of the answer. We must always be open to new ideas, and weigh each idea according to the evidence supporting it.

This type of religion closes minds, brainwashes even. It teaches kids that ‘there is only one truth – mine’, which is very unhealthy. As a person who relishes academic rigour, I see such camps as betraying children. I am very worried.

I’m back at uni. Right now, I’m sitting in my old university room, mum having dropped me off about half san hour ago. Because it had adaptations which suited me, like special keys and buttons to open doors, I’ve always had this room when at university; thus it feels rather like a homecoming. The place hasn’t changed much, apart from a pair of curtains and a lick of paint, and I’ll have to get Esther to put my posters up later. Nevertheless, my third and final year should be a good one, and I really am looking forward to lectures starting next week.

This gives me time to settle in, sort out my timetable and get a head start on work. Hopefully I’ll see a few friends around campus later today.

Hope everyone has an equally good day.

Last night I watched with horror Tony Robinson’s documentary on ‘End Timers’ – people who believed that the world is about to end in accordance with the book of revelation. It was an excellent, well rounded documentary, and a clear antidote to the other tripe usually on TV of a Saturday evening; what it exposed, however, horrified me.

It is deeply worrying that people actually believe this ‘end of the world’ garbage. After all, as Robinson pointed out towards the end of the programme, it was probably written on an island by a man whose intention was to write some anti-roman propaganda. However, some people still believe in it, as they believe in the story of creation over Evolution.

As with creationists, one’s first reaction is to dismiss such people as lunatics. However, while I am convinced of their abject stupidity, so much so that I want to go up to them and cry ‘it’s just a frikkin book!’, these people are too numerous to be ignored. Moreover, they seem to be in a position of power, especially with Bush in power in the u.s.

This is worrying. If you believe that the world is going to end soon, what’s the point in planting crops? More importantly, what’s the point of caring about the environment if you believe that global warming is just evidence of the coming apocalypse?

And here, I think, we get to the rub. Although Mr. Robinson does not say this in his programme, it seems obvious to me that such thinking plays straight into the hands of the petrochemical companies. With people thinking like this, they can have carte blanche to dig where they want. Indeed, one American on last nights programme said he was intending to dig under the holy land, claiming he had scripture backing him up.

Thus it is clear that, in America, we have a toxic mix of fundamentalism and oil: people are using religion for their own personal gain, using it to distort realty and make money. People are being manipulated, yet seem too arrogant and sure in their own narrow beliefs to notice. It is very very scary and something we should all be worried about.

I heard earlier today that the children’s commissioner Sir Al Aynsley-Green has described education provision for kids with autism as ‘shocking and appalling’. I have no reason to argue with him, but fear that this is only the tip of the iceberg. Provision for kids with SEN in general is dire, not just those with autism; my fear now is that people will start the whole ‘inclusion isn’t working’ gig. The opposite is the case: it is segregation that’s the problem, as special schools are innately damaging. This is not to say that I advocate dumping all kids into comprehensive schools as is; this will do more damage than good. The solution is more complex. My fear, however, that this report will cause a backlash from those who think segregation is the way forward – it isn’t; and I doubt it was the author’s intent to say such a thing. Nevertheless, the inclusion debate has just warmed up a bit more.

read more here

This link is just incredible. It’s about a woman with a bionic arm, controlled only by thought. I am totally amazed by what…

TRANSMITION INTERUPTED

SUBSPACE FREQUENCIES OPEN

WE ARE BORG. LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND PREPARE TO BE INVADED. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED RESISTANCE IS FUTILE

just kidding

Previously, I had been worried that the new bbc 3 comedy I’m with stupid. This afternoon, however, I read this article by Alan martin, which does go some way to assuage my concerns. He points out that, after all, this is a bit of fiction, not intended to mirror reality. Of course, one can point out that programmes with crips in come about so rarely, this is our one chance to get it right; yet for the same reason, if we moan too much, we risk putting off program selectors, and programmes about disabled people won’t be commissioned. Anyway, go read

i think this dude can play guitar:

go check this out now!

although its on the AOL site, here’s a link to the latest Casino Royale trailer. Good to see that, in the days of international terrorism, there are still a few people upon which one can depend.

cheers esther!

It was, perhaps, no surprise that Blair faced hecklers this afternoon. He is, after all, something of a lame duck after announcing his own expiry date earlier this week. Yet, while I disagree upon many points, notably the war in Iraq, I thought it was a good speech delivered by a master orator. I felt he presented good, well-rounded points upon issues like immigration: I have no problem with the idea of keeping some kind of record of who comes in and leaves the country, especially these days. I do, however, have a problem with trying to limit immigration, as Mr. Cameron proposes. The differences between labour and Tory are still there, believe it or not.

Another important difference is delivery. Blair still seems like an honest, genuine guy, who passionately believes in what he is saying, whether you agree with him or not. After all, he’s not up for re-election, which lends him credibility. Cameron, on the other hand, just seems to me like an actor, trying to appear friendly to the public. Obviously, he’s trying to emulate Blair. Yet he is still a Tory: his stance on inclusive education shows that he does not understand the issue, and you et the sense that if and when he’s elected this mask will slip, and we’ll slip back to the dark days of thatcher and major. I for one am not that gullible and I hope that my fellow voters also see through this act.

This date is strange. Two numbers on the colander which mean se much to so many people. The beginning of a fight back for some, the beginning of a war of vengeance for others. I remember thinking, five years ago, where this will all end.

It hasn’t yet.

If, like me, you are interested in anthropology, you’ll find this very interesting indeed. the finding of these pigments very interesting indeed. it would suggest that abstract thought evolved in humans 100,000 years earlier than previously thought. While I remain skeptikal, my question is, could this represent the beginning of language?

There are many things in this world worth fighting for. As a disabled person, I support the causes of disability rights, inclusive education and so on. However, as a human, I feel it vital that we conserve as much of the biodiversity of our planet as possible. I admit I pollute; I admit I use excessive amounts of electricity; this does not mean conservation is no important to me.

It’s probably best if I let the experts speak for themselves:

” The fate of the creatures which share our planet lies entirely at the hand of mankind – it is within our power to protect them or watch them become extinct. Let us choose the first route.” – sir David Attenborough.

Or, better yet, watch this [makes me very sad].

This afternoon, I settled down to watch Two Rode Together on bbc2. a film from 1961 starring James Stewart. It’s a western, but what caught my eye is the portrayal of race relations between ‘white’ people and ‘native Americans’. The Indians had kidnapped some ‘white’ children about 15 years before the events of the film, and their parents want them back.

As we all know, native American people were traditionally handled appallingly by American film-makers. Americans wanted them to be portrayed as savage heathen, thereby concreting their claim to the land. They wanted film to confirm that the Indian was the bad guy, not them (never mind that the white settlers were guilty of virtual ethnic cleansing, and stole the land). Thus, in two Rode Together, we see this typical view confirmed: the Indians were savage child-stealers.

Yet, here the message gets slightly ambiguous. It is true that, in this film, Stewart describes Comanche ceremonies as barbaric, emphasising the most gruesome parts. On the other hand, when the captives are eventually ‘rescued’, it seems that they felt happier with the Indians; the hypocrisy and barbarism of the white society is exposed. Moreover the way in which white people are exposed as lynch-happy drunkards leaves one wondering which ethnic group is more ‘civilised’.

I have questioned for quite some time our arrogance in thinking that western society is the most advanced and ethical. It’s certainly the most polluting and wasteful.

Indeed, we can still see the attitudes some of ‘us’ – and I dislike using that word – held towards people like the Comanche, Navaho and Apache now held towards Muslims and people of Indian decent. It’s appalling how some still rely on old ways of thinking, outdated and just wrong, no man is any better than anyone else, regardless of skin tone, religion, accent, ability, or whatever.

I don’t know enough of the history of the western genre to know how much of a watershed two Rode Together was, but I suspect it was towards the end of the time when American Indians were simply caricatures. Yes, it had it’s faults, but I think it signalled a step in the right direction – a step that some still refuse to take.

I want to know why this dude didn’t get full marks. he answered the question, didn’t he?

Although it’s only part of the article, I found this story from the New Scientist fascinating. It’s about the discovery of a transitional form between fish and amphibians. While I must admit I am very amused by the mental image of a walking fish, flolloping along the ground (perhaps being chased by me in defiant to complete the pythonesque picture) I am amazed at the same time. Could Darwin have known that his theory would be proved so forcefully? Probably not.

For my part, I am an artist not a scientist, although I like to keep myself informed. Filmic analysis is not a science since the creation of film is an art. Yet at the moment I am convinced that, at the level of the shot, film can be dealt with in a roughly scientific paradigm. We learn from Metz that film is not a language, so I am happy to throw the linguistic paradigm out, but semiotics still remains. [I’m going in circles with this stuff right now].

Ho hum. At least filmic analysis is less messy than digging for fossils, even if there is not yet a central governing framework, like evolution, behind it.

Note I say ‘yet’.

I just got back from visiting university campus. I’ve recently employed a new non-academic PA, so I needed to show him where I’ll be for most of the time for the nest none months or so. I can’t have him coming to give me dinner, and him not knowing where I am. Hungry cripple! Bad medicine.

Campus was as quiet, as I had expected. Workmen were giving brandies a lick of paint, and my mate Jim was there (he lives on campus) but that’s about it. Yet the odd thing was, there was a strange smell. It isn’t a nasty smell, just the smell of campus, but for some reason I associated that smell with fear. I guess I only notice that smell at the beginning of term, before it fades into he background, and it is at the beginning of term that I am at my most apprehensive. Thus, I associated that smell with fear and felt a knot in my stomach as soon as it hit my nostrils.

But why should I be scared? True, this being my third year I know I’ll have to work my socks off, but I feel more prepared than ever. I have been doing plenty of reading, and feel comfortable with my subject. It’s illogical, but that knot nevertheless formed.

Either way, I’m really looking forward to this term. Going to lectures, seeing my friends, watching films, plays etc. I guess it’s just residue from school and Resi.

my fellow palin fans might be interested in this, a blog devoted to panin’s new europe. I don’t doubt it will be as great as his other series, and I’m really looking forward to it.

I’d like to express my sadness at the death of Steve Irwin. I’m surprised how much this news has affected me: I seldom got the chance to watch his programmes, but, when I did, I was taken by Irwin’s zest for life. Yes, much of what he did had me questioning his sanity, but this was in a joke-like manner, and everyone could see that this was a man who cared deeply for nature. He was quintessentially Australian, as Sir David Attenborough is quintessentially British, and he will be greatly missed.

link to the report

I must admit, Godard is growing on me. Here are films one can have a proper debate over, unlike most of what Hollywood produces these days. As with good novels, they are ambiguous and open to interpretation. I just watched his Le Mepris, and it feels like I have just finished a good book.

Le Mepris is about Paul, a screenwriter-cum-playwright and his relationship with his girlfriend, Camile, which is on the verge of breaking up. Paul is writing a screenplay for an adaptation of Homer’s Ulysses, and there’s quite a lot of debate between Paul and his producer, Prokosch, over the relationship between Ulysses and his wife, Penelope. Thus there’s a dualism between Paul, engaged on the ‘journey inward’ that off writing – and the ancient Greek hero. Of course this ends in tragedy when Camile and Prokosch die in a car accident – perhaps in retribution for tempting the gods. Thus, Godard is drawing allusions to the classics while forming a new style of film.

On a separate note, what interests me about Godard is his style. He is like nothing I have seen before, with his abrupt changes of music and flashes of colour. At first, these appalled me, as they were so different to what we are all used to. Yet, I realise now that Godard was not just being pretentious but revolutionary, deliberately testing the boundaries of film. I personally think that these boundaries don’t exist, and that filmic grammar is not at all rigid. Indeed, directors like Godard suggest that such grammar is purely aesthetic (much more so than with writing and natural language) and can be done away with altogether.

Although for some reason episode one sees to be episode two, I just watched the new bbc3 comedy ‘I’m with stupid.’ Not sure what to make of it, to be honest. Of course, any representation of disabled people in any media is to be welcomed, and on one level at least I’m With Stupid seems to represent them quite accurately. The programme seems to be about disabled residents in a carehome, all as capable of stabbing eachother in the back as everyone else. They gamble, and cheat, and lie. Indeed, the main crip, Paul, seems to be a sneaky little worm; some call him charming, but I can’t stand him.

However, the major problem I have with this problem is that it conforms to the stereotype of us crips belonging in care homes. In the real world, there’s no way folk like those would be in any such place. I have had the good fortune to have met the guy who plays graham, Alan Martin: he’s a successful businessman with his own dance company. I really do not like the idea that we crips are all in homes.

Be that as it may, I like this show, and am keen to see how it evolves. Who knows, it could be the next ‘Extras’. It can be viewed online here. More writing on this programme will no doubt follow on my site

Not much to say today, but I note from my cursory glance at the science page of the bbc news that mr. Cameron has jumped on the environmental band wagon. Yes, we should all be concerned about climate change and the hunt for sustainable fuel, but this just smacks of blatant vote-chasing, especially given the Tories’ track record on such matters.

One of the best and worst things about being a cripple is that I get stuff for free. That is, people give me stuff and refuse to take my money. It’s silly.

This morning, for example, I was in town and I noticed there was a book sale in the market. Here I cry the lament of the bibliophile: I have more books than I can possibly read, yet I cannot resist buying more. I swear, it’s a form of mania born of philology, or at least an addiction to the smell of glue. Anyway, I noticed some quite good authors on the bench – Balzac, Moliere (whom my aunt mentioned in her comments, if memory serves) – and I selected four or five. As usual, I rolled to the store holder, preparing to pay, but she said I could have them.

I know I should not have accepted them. Normally I refuse to be seen as a charity case. Yet I couldn’t refuse. In her eyes she was just being generous. What is one to do.

The remedy presented itself immediately. In all, these books would have cost a quid. Not very far away, a man was standing in the street selling the Big Issue for that price. I bought it, as, in my mind, it was the right thing to do.

Was it?

Some astute readers of my blog may remember that Weekend was the film we tried to see in Paris, but the Pompidou centre ballsed the screening up. It kept repeating, although I was very amused by the fact that most people in the audience did not seem to realise that something was wrong. Anyway, in preparation for the forthcoming academic year, I decided to buy four or five Godard films, and this morning I sat down to watch Weekend.

I suppose I owe my ludditry to modern, cynical, culture. I could barely make head nor tale of that film, and it struck me as a very bizarre piece of work. I was also in stitches of laughter several times, especially when one man, bearing a bush and a pistol, claimed to be the offspring of a homosexual relationship between Alexander Dumas and God. I know this film is meant to mean something, and you’re meant to think about it, but it struck me as just plain silly.

I feel like such an infidel in writing this. to be sure, there is a lot of philosophy in this film. At one point, two bin men recount the history of race relations and civilisation. Reading the subtitles, I could gleam most, but not all, of what was said, and it did seem interesting. But is this film the right place for such a discourse? That, surely, is a good question. Certainly it is post-modern in it’s mixing of media; the juxtaposition of the words and the social status of those saying them made a very astute point about class, a topic which the discourse itself touched upon. Yet by including this segment in his film, Godard breaks away with all traditional ideas of narrative structure: in what other media, be it film, book, or whatever, I the narrative broken in such a way.

Thus it is clear that Godard was playing with such concepts. Why shouldn’t a film include discourses on philosophy? Indeed, where it is written that the very concept of the shot cannot be played with as Godard does with this film, for example breaking up the flow of the music. The characters seem to acknowledge that they’re in a film even, and a silly one at that. Godard’s genius was that he played with the idea of film itself, making it quite clear that the ‘rules’ of film, unlike that of language, are extremely weak. Thus, despite at first appearing to be rather silly (would someone tell me why there were crashed cars everywhere), Weekend, like most other films by Godard, are actually rather exciting, in that they open the field of possibilities up, away from the shooting styles of Hollywood.

I was reading through comments yesterday, and the last few sentences of my aunt Dinah’s comment (or my uncles translation thereof – btw thanks uncle Aki)  in response to this entry caught my eye ” But in any case, every work (book, painting, ballet, play or film) is only half completed until it has been “consumed”. It is the reader, the spectator, or the user of a media that truly completes the artistic production. The way a work is received is very important and changes at each playing or performance. Even identical copies of a film are seen differently at each playing. The same goes for reading books and plays.” While in no way do I mean to imply that I do not agree with the rest of what my aunt wrote, this point in particular interests me, for it cuts to the core of all art.

What, exactly, is art without eyes to witness it? After all, a painting is just pigment on canvas, and a novel is just lines on a page until someone sees it. Art needs human cognition to make it real, more than the sum of it’s parts. Similarly, all things need eyes to gaze upon them, as well as words to speak of them, to be made real. If I write the word tree, an image of a tree pops into your mind, which was not there before; thus, for all intents and purposes, the word called that tree into being. However, as de Sasseur notes, the relationship between sign and signified is arbitrary, so the tree in my mind may be different to the one in yours; moreover, if you say ‘tree’ to the same person at different times, different trees come to mind.

Similar things happen in art. It is most obvious, I suppose, with writing. My image of the places and characters in a book will be different to someone else’s. give two children the same piece of prose, and then ask them to draw a picture of a character, and their pictures will be different. While this may not be so obvious in other art forms, where the relationship between sign and signified may be closer, the same broad principals apply. Thus, texts themselves can be said to be constantly changing, even though the words on the page remain the same, since any text needs human cognition to exist.

If I can now go back to my short essay on whether film is a text or a performance, we now see the line between the two is blurred, since both are in an equal state of flux. This, as Chris says, is postmodern, as postmodernism seems to question the very existence of truth. Thus, if all texts are in flux, why cannot it be valid to remake films. (putting aside the fact that nearly all such films are dire, that is.)

Just as, in my opinion at least, one should read the novels of Ernest Hemingway in the context of his life, one should watch the films of Goddard with one eye on the context of the new wave. This was a very interesting period in the short history of film making: it was an effort to break away from Hollywood’s firm grip on the industry. Both financially and aesthetically, mainstream Hollywood film-makers ruled the roost, so in the early sixties European film-makers like Godard and Trufaut set about making a new type of film, just as Llars von Trier did much later with Dogme.

One need only to go to the local cinema to see that both thesse projects failed – the Hollywood high-concept movie, with it’s emphasis on visual spectacle, is virtually the only thing on our screens. No doubt this was in large part due to finance, but I am also beginning to suspect that aesthetics played a part in the downfall of the new wave too.

This morning I watched pierrot le fou by Godard. It was the first new-wave film which I managed to watch properly, and it seemed very alien and disjointed. Having said that, it went some way to confirming the ideas of Christian Metz in that, dispite its disjointedness, it remained readable, suggesting that film cannot be a language. However, the ‘grammar’ Godard employs (and I use the term loosely, as filmic grammar is a highly complex subject; it is a very ethereal entity) is rather odd. He seems to play with ideas of character and time, so that the viewer never quite knows what is going on, or which part of the story he is watching. Indeed, the film is about two people fleeing through France, but I personally was never quite sure what they had supposedly done. It was clear that they had done this deed at a party at the beginning of the film, but this party was being filmed in such aa way – with the film suddenly being shot through red or blue lenses at random intervals, that it was virtually impossible to tell what was happening.

Moreover, Godard seems to like cutting to seemingly random events, like men telling stories of how they woo their girlfriends. He also played with the soundtrack, so music would cut off suddenly. For one raised on the seemless editing of the Hollywood mainstream, this was all very disconcerting.

The effect of all this, I think it fair to say, is comic. It put me in mind of the Monty Python films, and there is no doubt that Godard intended to be funny. While I see no problem with this, it begs the question of why Gilliam is not ranked along side Godard. The answer, of course, is one of legacy: through being comic, Godard experimented with editing. To him, we owe much of the grammar of film – for example, the jump cut is largely attributed to him. Things that Godard created and experimented with were later taken up by the mainstream. Things as trivial today as location shooting were then unheard of in Hollywood.

To our eyes, French New Wave films seem alien; they aren’t part of our regular viewing diets. Yet, without them – without the techniques their directors pioneered the modern cinema would barely exist as we know it.

We just got back from London. As I have said before, it’s always nice to see my grandmother: she’s pushing eighty, but she can still whoop everyone at cards. Christina was there too, and it was good to see her again.

However, on Saturday we – that is, Luke myself and our parents – went too visit my aunt Jill and her family in Hastings. We do not manage to get down there, so ii was quite to see my cousin’s son, Jake, tottering about on two legs. I remember him being a baby, but he is now aged 18 months ld and very mobile. He also talks a lot, although he has no coherent words yet, so what he says is a babble which sounds like language but is incomprehensible. No doubt words will soon follow, and then Jake’s parents and grandparents probably won’t be able to get a word on edgeways. I was also surprised by Jake’s dexterity – it’s already better than mine.

With a bit of luck, aunt Jill et al. will be coming up to see us in a few months. I wonder what Jake will be doing by then.

Recently I have been pondering the status of film. Can a film be seen as equivalent to a novel, or is it more akin to a performance of a play? On artistic and academic circles, the word ‘text’ is awarded not just to writing, but anything artistic and creative; here – and this is a personal preference – I take text to mean anything original, new, and created. There can only be one ‘text’ on anything.

This is, to my mind, different from performances. To be sure, performances are (more often than not) based on text. For example, a performance of Hamlet is based upon the text as written by Shakespeare. However, performances change: no to productions are alike; indeed, plays are often different from night to night – actors are prone to varying their style. Of course, this is as it should be, and the more performances of the same play one sees, the more one cam gleam from a text. In contrasting how one actor plays a character in contrast to another actor playing the same character, we learn more about that character. By no means does one invalidate the other.

But which category does film fall under? Film is a text in that, like novels, they are original yet unchanging. They are recorded artefacts: that is, like books or paintings you can put them on the shelf and they do not change. Thus, that which one sees – the shot – is rather like the words on a page. Yet, like performances, films can be re-made. At first, I had a problem with this: you wouldn’t re-write a novel with the same characters, plot etc but use different words. That would be silly, not to say plagiarism. Then I realised that, in this sense, film more closely resembled a performance. Thus the modern version of the ‘Italian job’ is as valid as, and could even be seen in relation to, the classic version.

Yet something about this makes me slightly uncomfortable. Where does it leave directors? They cannot be seen as true auteurs if they are not making something truly original. This is not to say that such people have no creativity, or that what they produce is any less valid. Plays have to be perpetually re-made due to their very nature, but films live on. Is it necessary to re-make old films? Is it artistically valid? I cannot decide completely; re-makes can be useful when read in relation to the original, but most of the time it seems they’re just ”wannabe’ films trying to steal past glories.

my internal debate nevertheless rages

It seems to me that we are becoming a nation of xenophobes. Community cohesion is breaking down along ethnic lines. We all heard, I am sure, about the two men booted off a plane on Tuesday, and I strongly suspect it was simply because of their skin tone and age – they looked like stereotypical terrorists. This is, to be sure, a rather scary time, but the moment we start questioning multiculturalism is the moment we lose our own cultural identity.

I blame David Cameron. His attempt to make xenophobia seem reasonable acted to increase interethnic tension in this country, for by calling for a debate on immigration would have made members of ethnic minorities feel unwelcome. It was like saying ‘we do not want any more of you lot coming here.” This would have made such people feel isolated, acting against community cohesion. In other words, by framing a debate along arbitrary divisions, he acted to increase those divisions. I think this is partly responsible for the incident on the plane.

When did we become a nation of xenophobes?

If anyone ever doubted that literature could cut to the very quick of the human soul, they should read Conrad’s Heart of darkness. It exposes the depravity of human thought in it’s portrait of Kurtz, the racist white supremacist whose eloquence makes him great. What is interesting is that this book was written in 1902, before the horrors of Hitler, Stalin, Mao and all the other Kurtzes came to the fore. Thus it may once have been a warning, but now it seems a lament.

Of course, some academics, such as Chinua Achebe point out that Conrad himself is racist. I can certainly see their point: black people are depicted in this book as not human; at many times I was revolted by Conrad’s descriptions. Yet Marlowe is even more appalled by Kurtz, which, for me, blurs things slightly. I do not think Conrad was being racist – when you put it in the context of the era in which it was written – and, in his condemnation of Kurtz, may have been exactly the opposite, in a way. A single reading is hardly a good basis for such things though.

The full text is online here.

The first episode of little miss Jocelyn is available to watch online here. At first I started to analyse it (it’s getting to be habit of mine). I couldn’t decide whether the programme was racist or not: this programme made use of large amounts of racial stereotypes, so the question is: is this programme making use of those stereotypes to make us laugh, or using them to point out the absurdity of such things. After all these characters are obviously caricatures.

Anyway, then I saw the sketch with the baby (near the end), fell about laughing, and analysis went out the window.

From my recent browsing around the internet – specifically the site I linked to yesterday – it is becoming apparent to me that many conservative Americans do not like academia. They accuse it of being too liberal, as if liberal were an insult rather than a position. They dislike, it seems, post-Copernican science, and the break down of the believe that one can be absolutely certain of something.

Academia, I seems to me, is an ever-lasting debate. One researcher proposes a theory, which is countered by another, and another. The truth is entirely down to perspective; thus, we can never know absolute truth despite the fact we are forever moving closer towards it. His, to me is logical, and as it should be. But to a conservative brought up, perhaps, with the absolute certainties of religion, this is probably very scary. This is why, I think, they are attacking academia; it is why, as Mark rightly pointed out in the comments section of my previous post, they are so insecure.

Moreover, mark is also right when he says ”[American conservatives] have to try to stamp their crooked ideology onto every cultural outlet, and can’t bear the fact that the intelligentsia is overwhelmingly liberal-minded even though the conservatives are (by default) the ones who hold the reigns of power.” Yet I see an irony in this: in positing a contrasting view, are they not, by definition, entering into the same never-ending academic debate which they seem to dislike? The truth can never be absolute because it is perpetually argued over. Thus, their position is paradoxical: they want a certainty of truth which can only (theoretically) be imposed by entering into a framework which negates any such possibility.

A similar paradox is at the centre of creationism: the proponents of this belief want it to replace science, but to get this achieved they have to enter into the scientific debate structure. Hence, in both cases they inadvertently become part of the debate they actually want to do away with, which is why both are doomed to failure. They say academic debate is unnecessary, and want to replace it with an absolutism, but in doing so they enter into the debate. They cannot help but re-enforce the thing they want to do away with.

It is this absolutism, I think, which gives rise to American patriotism, although you could have a good chicken-and-egg debate here. Nevertheless, the logic that ”there is no truth save ours” will duly give rise to an over-confidence in one’s belief system, government system. To concede that there are opinions other than one’s own, which are equally valid, is to concede that one may be wrong. This is why I think the essay I linked to yesterday was written by a conservative American: he could not conceive of a future not ruled by his beliefs; it is why he was attacking star trek, misguidedly accusing it of Fascism – it dared to posit a world where his belief system was not in command, thereby proposing that the American system may be flawed, and we can’t have that, can we? With it’s view of inter-planetary harmony, Star Trek was anything but fascist, as star fleet was devoted to science rather than conquest, but the writer off this text could not allow any idyllic vision of the future to exist without it’s being under rightist American terms.

If there’s one thing that winds me up about such people, it is their belief that their way is best, and will always be so. It seems very arrogant. In writing this, I know I am only presenting my opinion, which others may disagree with. It’s why I have the ‘comments’ screen. Opinion is the closest thing we have to the truth; depending on the evidence supporting them, some opinions carry more weight than others. Hence absolute truth can never be attained, but this should not stop us trying.

This was written, clearly, by an American conservative. It is sneering and arrogant in it’s belief that capitalism is always better. The point of star trek was that it was scientific and objective – something seemingly foreign to a conservative. I must agree that there are too few minority peoples represented in Star trek, as with all media, but I do not think this makes the programme fascist. I think, rather, that, writing from a conservative American perspective, the author of this text cannot abide the idea of a future which does not reflect his beliefs. He cannot accept a future devoid of capitalism and religion, and thus attacks anything where all-American values do not reign supreme. Thus, while it does contain some good food for thought – and criticism of this kind should always be encouraged – I find this text highly ill-conceived and flawed.

There is nothing that illuminates humanity more than her fiction; and, perhaps, none that illuminates it in such a way than science fiction. In it, as through a glass, we see ourselves. Not just ourselves, but our ambitions, our hopes, and our fears. Fiction is thus more real than any asinine reality TV show

I was just watching star trek tng on bbc2. it is imbedded with an optimism peculiar to the late eighties: the hope that humanity can become more than what it is today; the hope that we can unite. The hope, the most profound hope that humankind will one day work together as one.

Nothing sheds more light on ourselves than the tales we tell. TNG seemed to know it. This is why,, I think, it referenced so many other fictions, especially classical literature. We see Picard quoting Shakespeare regularly, for it is in Shakespeare that we see ourselves most clearly. Thus, TNG seems to relish, not just in the tale but in it’s telling. And it is in that telling that we find the human spirit itself.

It may or may not be a coincidence that Patrick Stewart is currently playing Prospero – to whom Picard alluded many times – in Stratford-Upon-Avon. I should go watch.