twilight is the period between the end of ones exams and results day. its a period when one is suddenly free from all work. theres little point to worrying about exam results. in short, twighlight is bliss, and i look forwward to it all year. I have no work, no revision to do; no exams to worry about; I can just sit and chill: maybe read a bit, maybe do some writing, maybe get out my python DVDs.

ahh…twighlight is good. and in 2 or 3 weeks, i’m off to berllin for 10 days, which is gonna rule!

my final exam of the year, AS history, was tjhis afternoon. think I did o.k. I’m just happy they’rre over, and I now have about 3 monthhs to chill. woohoo. expect lots more blog entries from me guys!

I stood under the branches of the tree which overhung the driveway, a soft wind rustling the leaves.

“Beautiful, isn’t it.” Dad smiled. I could tell he was impressed. He was looking at the bike, but his sight, I could tell, stretched back some 25 years, to his own youth.

“why don’t you start it up, so we can see how it sounds?”

my brother stepped forward with the key. He slotted it into the ignition just behind the two gauges. Almost immediately, like a newborn kitten the bike began to purr.

It generated a gentle put-putting sound which reminded me of old biplanes from the twenties. I suppose my brother can be compared to those first brave aeronaughts. I couldn’t help feeling jealous, and proud.

At length, after the two men had talked about it and eyed it like workmen preparing to build a wall, my brother lent forward and gently squeezed the throttle: the putput disappeared, and the kitten turned into a lion, proud as any in Africa. My father was in love/

Of course, my brother was under strict orders from my mother not to let dad get on the thing. She knew that dad would simply fall in love with the damn machine at first sight, and she was quite right. Mum had been totally against Luke buying what she saw as a toy in the first place.

“It’s dangerous.” She had said, probably half a thousand times. “if you killed yourself, I don’t know what I’d do.”

For my part, I had to agree. I hated the idea of my little brother hurting himself. Truth be told, I’m very fond of him. Yet before me sat this great half-ton lump of plastic and chrome which sang like Hendrix’s guitar, and all I felt was admiration.

Luke’s gone out riding, playing with his new toy. Which, I suppose, is part of the problem: mum still likes to think of him as her littlest son, still wrapped in a white blanket. Today I saw Luke, a man with a damned fine motorbike, ready to make his own way n the world.

this evening, mum cooked the most delicious meal. it had beenn a long afternoon, and i’d had onlyy some bread and pate for lunch. its just me and mum at home tonight – dads away on business, lukes at tesco – so i was just expecting mum to do something simlple, like beans on toast. on the contrary, she usedd the occasion to make a risotto with button mushrooms and a butter and white wine sauce. it was delicious. I had the remaining wine – a rioja, which, althouugh clearly intended for thee cooking pot, was nevertheless palateable – to drink, and we sat and ate and spoke as evening fell through the kkkichin window. It was quite heavenly, and i’ll go to bed happy.

ok, i know its a day in, but so far i’m really greattful 4 this half term. last week shattered me, but now i’m full of vim and vigour. wattched a bond and aa jackie chan film today, and mum got return of the king on dvd! feeling good! revisions going well too.

the debate on how the disabled are or should be referred to often comes up on the ouch messageboards. the debate interests me. just how should we be defined. of course, it depends in part on weather we are a specific sub-group – is there a “we”, or are the disabled merely a set of unrelated humanns with some physical quirks?

The answer, I think, lies domewhere in the middle. Essentially I am no more ‘related’ to another disabled person than I am to eminem – we have different views, diffrent likings and diffrent political stances – yet, o the other hand, all disabled people share certain things: the special school system, frustrations at restrictive beurocraccy, a hatred of steps (especially the blond welsh one).

therefore, given that we are indeed a social subgroup, how are we defined? people who wear black and llisten to thrash metal are usually called “goths”; people who wear socks outside their platic trousers and baseball caps are called “scallies”, although “2complete retards” seems more accurate; so what is the collective term for isabled people?

I often refer to myself as “cripple” or “spastic”: these are derogetory terms which, rather like the term “nigger” in americcan culture, we have claimed for ourselves. they are postmodern terms, used for ironic purposes. Yet were anyone to refer to me as a spastic – that is, anyone other than my close friends and family – I would find it extremely offensive, just as a black person would take offense were I to call him a nigger. Jackie chan illustrates this very point in “rush hour”.

We can therefore see how this debate is so diifficult. euphomisms like “the ddisabled” and “the physically challanged” smack of the medical model, which attempts to treat us like hospital patients; South Park clearly illustrated how “the crips” is already taken; “spastic” reminds me of the 1970s andd is too derogiterry.

Whatevver the word, there will be problems with it, so why dont we just call all bets off. shakespeare wrote “a rose by any other name would’st smell as sweet”, so does it matter wht we are called? I think not. we are disabled, and we are proud!

this week i had three long exams on wednesday, thursday and friday. the thing is, they were all supposed to take place on wednesday, but due to the extra time i get it was thoought that doing examms for 12 hours in one daay would be a breach of human rights. Thus i had 2b persona-non-grata for three days. I was begining to get interne withdraw;l sympoms. At least now i can rest for 2 or 3 days before pressing on with revision. yay!

In other news, my site is getting more and more hits. so welcome newcomers etc.

in other other news, bush iis gettingon my nerves.. I’ll write about him smetime soon, but now it’s tome for fiends. does chanel 4 show anything else?

cp (ceribral palsy) + md (muscular dustrophy) = mp, which explains why all politicians are weak in the hheaad.

ok, its crap, but it amused me. not veryy pc either.

last night was very cool indeed. as planned, I was picked up at 8, and was in crewe by half past, I was aken in by clive and KJ. Strange how people made a fuss of me – finding me a suitable chair [i.e one i could”t fall off], saying “hi” and glad you could come”. I decided I like being made a fuss of.

anyway, i was sitting in a very dark, smokey room with a screen covering the stage at one end, onto which were being projected music videos. I got chatting to KJ, hayley and a few of the guys. Clive bought me a stella, and I sddenly relaxed. I thought “this is cool”, and felt like I was just a normal person out with mates.

I fell into my old habit of watching people as the place filled up. I used to think goths and bikers were scary people, but tonight they seemed, well, normal, and slightly comic for all their talk of death and suicide. I would once have been petrified of setting foot into such a place, but with Clive and the guys about, it felt cool. couldn’t help wondering what all the beardy bikers thought of me, but i’m pretty certain they didn’t mind – one even commented on my h*a*s*h tee shirt.

After we had arrived, with me sipping the Stella through the straw somewhat too quickly, I suddenly heard the opening bars of one of my favourite songs – Basketcase on the big screen! From then on, I knew it was gonna be a cool night!

as 9 approached, Kyle and the guys went backstage. Suddenly, the projection-screen lifted, and the most almighty din ensued. Kyle was shouting into a microphone like something satanic, Mark and Lee were on guitar, Dar was on Keyboard and charles was on drums. it all could have been imposing, if it hadn’t occurred to me that these guys wouldn’t hurt a fly, and indeed a few hours ago had been helping around the student council. Lee often helps me with my coffee. my point is that, i think the goth people have a bad reputation which is unwarranted. appearances often deceive.

Well, theres not much more to tell, other than I bought the 2nd round, had a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and got home shortly before 11. I wonder when their next gig is.

Scapegoat’s site

tomorrow night, i’m going out with a few of the guys from college. theyre playing at the limelight in crewe.. clive, the head of the student council and top bloke, is gonna pick me up from home about 8. after all these years of sitting, getting bored at home, i finally have a social life!

its somewhat liffee affirming!

I am now officially booared. just spent 4/5 hours revising. dulll. so, if anyone wants to msn me randomly, feel free to do so.

I just have to blog this – i was eating lunch at college in a conservitarry-type area thing, and down thee college road comes a big black van with a red stripe which took me right back to the 80s watching the A team with my older bro.

do you have a problem? yes lunch isn’t here yet and no-one else can help. no, esters fetching it.

then you must call…THE A-TEAM. Err, no thanks mr. beraccus, me and my LSA can cope, now go play somewhere else.

I just went downstairs again, and stood by tthe back door. the air now seems clear and fresh. I seldom go in to the garden, or any province of my father much, and so I lack knowledge of it. What I said earlier here was thus unfounded – for the most part. looking from tthe back door into the garden, I remembered the times dad had taken me there, onto the lawn, into fresh air. anger vaniishes like dawn mists, and I thought of Heaney’s poem: [quote=”Seamus Heaney”]DIGGING

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests: snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:

My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds

Bends low, comes up twenty years away

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills

Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.[/quote]

to a certain extent, the fate of people with disabilities is to bottle things up: to keep quiet about frustrations, to relax because you know that some people somewhere have things much worse. I can do this usually: the indignity of being fed, getting messy, being spoken down to. But tonight dad was bemoaning how i have it easy; how he suffered most after my birth; how cp ruined his life. well poor you, dad, sitting there with your steaming tea and fluid arms, heranging mum for not having dinner cooked after she’d done a days work; taking the piss out of my speach when you just cant be arsed to listen.

well, bite me! in this malfunctioning body a bad decision gave mme, I put up with about ten times the stresses you do. and at school i saw people with problems ten times greater than mine.

was reading ouch tonight. I found a link tlo the blog of a lad with cp. although he goes to a mainstream school, he faces many off thee problems i face, like exxam board stress, lack of a social life etc.

i feel less and less lonely these days. strange, really heres a link

Last night was the most enjoyable evenig i had in 2 or three years. My taxi drivver ad his wife took me to the pub. they r nice pol, kind enough to pay and even feed me. there is something odd in bung fed – for the duration of the meal, an almost mother/infant ra=elaationship is built, and i’m surprised by how manny ppl are preoared to do it. can be quite spiritual, and poignient.

At this point, tho, let me say thhat what i said to ivan was said in a light spirit. there is no need to be angry at me just because i told them about he toothbrush incident. sheesh!

tomorrow I have a politics mock – nothing serious – so i’m feeling rather political.

I’ve been pondering the vonservatism vs libralism debate. The conservative ethos seemss highly flawed to me: it preaches independencee; the state should hsve a minimal role; the rights of the indevidual outweigh those of the community. this would lead ultimately to a group of indeviduals rather than a society. in such a socciety, selfishness would rule, and only the “fittist” (whatever that is) would survive. this is social darwinism, annd would see the gene pool decreaseing as what is termed fit in our society -i.e selfishness – is not herreditarry. the gene pool would evaporate, and, with nobody caring for one another, we will die out. this would also happen in a zenophobic society, as fear of other people would ultimately cause inbreeding. likewise, fear of change would cause stagnation and ultimately relapse. in darwinian terms, there is no advantage to conservatism.

A liberal society, on the other hand, (and perhaps one on the left of he spectrum) is one that preaches acceptence. every member of that society – not just the fittest – is encouraged to blossom. Moreovver, a person who is not fit iin one field could be am expert in another, and hence were the rules of sociaal darwinism applied, the society would set itself at a ddisadvantage. thus surely it is better to promote a societyy which accepta people of all religions, racees ad abilities, as such a society is more adaptable.

we havent had an evening like this in aa long while: the sky is bright and blue and frecled with cloud. earlier, I was able to sit it the cconservitery and revise while mum and dad did some planting. I came up here to findd a new chapter of summon the lambs had been published, wich he computer read while I did my steps – the book seems to get better anndd better – and then i watched the itv bond film, staple of bank holiday t.v. all in all, a perfect day.

this is funny – i gave a link to the bbc ouch website and they actually posted a link to it. thus, i expect/hope that my readership to expand from..well..friends and family to, well, I dunno. hhow many readers does ouch have. well, if you followed the link ffrom ouch: welcome and salutations.

beter find something to write about. ahh..in iraq, there have been piictures taken if combattants being tortured by americans. is it me, or does this breach the geneva conventions? by rights, the us should be under sanctionnsl, but its way too big to do so. alk about an “evil empire”.

I’m writing from my brother’s house. It’s rather cool. The downside is now I have to think of something interesting to write about. Interesting enough so that Luke doesn’t say “this is boring” and stop taking my dictation. So I will explain my theory of Reciprocal Fate. It’s not the most scientific theory but in fact I think I pulled it out of my arse one night when I was feeling especially got at. Anyway here goes:

I was looking at how my brother’s do well at college. This morning on the way up here we were discussing my younger borther’s predicted grades at A Level and how easy he will get into university. It seems that way to me. And I thoguht that fate must even itself out somehow; that the law of averages must apply. Sometimes, I think I struggle and sometimes it seems that things are harder for me than it is for them. Therefore, I sometimes think that I get all the crap while they do well. This of course is bullshit and unscientific etc. But on the other hand if it is true, in a way I am happy because if I have CP it means that they can do well. I know I sound like Jesus Christ and I don’t really intend to but this is how I sometimes feel.

Anyway, this week Luke passed his motorbike exams, which is pretty damn cool although officially I’m not allowed to support him in this reckless activity. Congratulations bro.

today I have been pondering a popular song. not sure of it’s title, but it’s sole lyrics are “Push me, and don’t just touch me, then I can get my, satisfaction.” On the way home, it occured to me that this song might be referring to disability – the lyrics are born of a voice cynthesiser, similar to my lightwrither. in that the singer cannot get his “sattisfaction”, could this refer to the way disabled people remain loveless?

interesting, but i somehow doubt it.

i just finished reading an article in the sunday times news review. It5 was an accountt of the capture of Baghdad last year, detailing american soldiers actions first hand – one could smell the tank feul, and the blood. So far we have been merely given numbers of dead or captured, but this article i got a glimpse of the real war.

and I remember feeling the same thrill i got when i see battles on film – in sharpe, or when the rohirrim charge. this was exciting stuff; boys-own adventure. and i felt ashamed to feel so, for then i read of the blood, the families fast losing members – sons and daughters. One shouldn’t allow oneself to forget the truith of war.

night has fallen. the sky is deep, dark blue and fringed with low cloud, and there are no stars. I yearn for one. I yearn to leave this room and walk under the sky: under amazonian skies; under african skies. once again, i feel my feet itching. I want to see the far-off corners of the world: camping inv the serengeti, eatinng sushi in tokyo, drinking beer as the sun sets over sydney harbour.

these things will never happen. I am trapped in my body. i will never climb kilimanjaro, or see machu pichu. But in my mind I am free – free to walk in the grasslands of africa and the snows of the rockies. I see the salmoln in the stream, the wildebeast on the plain, and the whale in the sea. I hear music from africa and see pictures of these pllaces.

i am free, and travel must wait. good night, my friiends.

I was bored, and i thought i’dd do some websie stuff. i think it works rathew well

i’ve been watching news with interest this week, as iraq seems to be going awol. bush has also been talking with sharon, and they made a deal over isreal which will almost certainly enrage the alestinians as it senies them the right to return to what they say are their homes. does nobody else see the irony here – israel was built on this very principle. anway, it has long been established that one of bin laden’s major oncerns is palestine, so what enrages palestine wll enrage bin laden, and since bush is unambiguously tle creator of this hipocratic plan, more terrorist attacks will follow.

instead of protecting the u.s from attack, bush is inviting them. i just wrote a 4-page politics hwk in 5 hrs, so exxcuse my typing.

One knows the world has gone haywire when one’s parents take you into a Sex show! Mine did, but then, ma and pa are pretty cool.

We’ve just got back from a long weekend in Amsterdam: it’s a fine, beautiful city, full of wonderful buildings, large squares and excellent views, butt we went for other reasons.

We got there Saturday morning in time for lunch in a small café, then a tour of the city by boat, then a trip back to the hotel, then, in the evening, an exploration of the city’s nightlife. We head for the red light area, for which the city is famous, in an attempt to, um, get me aid, during which time we encountered a stage sex show, which was rather funny, if just to see the dirty oriental businessmen in the audience. Then, we went to see if any thing could be done about my virginity. Err..no. seems I can’t even pay for it. Dents ones ego. Ho hum

Anyway, during this very dodgy evening, we paid a visit to the cannabis museum. Somehow, we talked to the proprietor about medicinal cannabis, and he invited us back the following afternoon for a demonstration of THC – the drug minus the orher weird stuff.

Now, I’ve always thought thee parents to be conservative when it comes to drugs. I was wrong, and the following afternoon, after a visit to the tulip fields (pretty, but dull) they wheeled my chair into the museum. There, at the back, was a nice American lady called Zoe, who, after some talk, showed me the thc apparatus – best termed “hippie bagpipe” – and squirted the drug into my mouth.

I had trouble inhaling in time with the mouthpiece, so Zoe recommended we get some hippie chocolate from a nearby café, which, along with ample puffs from the bagpipe, saw me rather..err. I think stoned is the word. I could relax, move more fluidly, and nothing ached. It worked, and all was well, till I had a beer.

That was a mistake: I got rather depressed, sad etc, for no reason. I decided I hated the drug. I should not have mixed the two substances. Not an experience I want to repeat, ever! I still feel slightly iffy.

Yet, possibly the best thing that happened was in the lift of C&A, which we shared with a mother and her daughter with CP. She was about 5 or 6, I guess. We faced each other – she was wide eyed with curiosity, and realisation that she was not alone.

ii probably should write something. i try to update once a week, but havent had much to write about, bar my dodgy tory taxi driver, who cant stop playing with hiss dick and the dubious loon that i share a taxi with.

oh yah, i noticed a pleasing duality – just as ppl like me are trapped by disability, and the paradox of a social system which ;preaches independence but neverltheless subjigates us to special schools andd daycare, everyone is trapped to a life of servitude in no-hope jobs by capitalism. Moreover, on a natio[nal scale we are trapped into a war on terror which, while we cant possibly win, niether can we do nothing. Perverselyy, noting this made me feel a little less isolated.

we’re all equally trapped. it’s likee a python sketch, really.

After hisory, i returned to the student council, who gave me a birthday card signed by all my friends there. this cheered me up no end!

This afterrnoons history lesson was awful. We had to read short biographies of members of the 19117 bolshevik party then fuill in a table. I couldn’t keep up – I dont read very fast (even though i love reading). I found myselmf dropping further and ffurther behind. I’ll have to caqatch up over the weekend, as well as doing the hwk john set. No point worrying about it, i suppose.

ok, so maybe tv dinners r better than i thought..

Downstairs here r 3 tesco cook-in-plastic-tray-thing roast beef dinners. Jeez. has it really come to this? cuisine de la proletariat! I miss proper dinnners. having said that, mums gonna do a mexican on saturday 4 myy birthday. yaay!

oh year. i got another a for my film studies coursework todaaay – 2 in as many weeks. i guess,, tea aside, all is well.

Today for my film studies course, Aristede, Jane and rob the sports lsa took me back to my old school. I needed to get the storyboards done for film studies. It was odd, going back – it was all so familliar, yet so differenyt. I felt like a stranger among friends: i knew everyone there – mrs ellis, whom i have known since i was 9 or 10, said hi, as did mrs jackson, whom i have known, well, longer than I remember.

yet its also so different – theyve done much more building work, expanded the playground etc. which, i suppose, is the point: the hebden I knew is gone. time and tide wait for no man.. ths i doubt i will return there. It is part of my past, and though, academically speaking, it was as useful as an exploded blamonge, i still have a great affection for it. I suppose the chapter of my life entitled “hebden green school” closed for all time today.. It was long and good. A new chapter will begiin soon, and that will be called “university”.

i just got back from oxford. mark and kat graduated in an aincient and beautiful ceremony, full of traditionn and stpid hats. me and luke gott to go round oxford, buying cd’s and spying possible presents in a state of decreasing sobriety. by mid-evening, we had invented a sport wherein luke rides on the back of my chair while i lean forward and squeal. Highly unethical in that it sets back the portrayal of disability about 50 years, but fun.

coming soon: a rant about the conservitives.

Hi mark

I havent been reading all that much recently. Not as much as i’d have like. Been far too busy with university stuff, coursework etc. I have a day ooff today to visit Staffs university, which should be good. I’m starting to look forward to going to university – it’s high time I got a little more independent, and less reliannt on M, D + L.

As for the americans, yeah, I may bemoan their stupidity andd religious zealotry – I’ve heard it termed “Tinhattery” – but most are ok. some of the best writing on the subject of disabilitty I’ve ever seen came from a lady in Florida; I hold “To Kill a Mockingbird” – set in Alabama – as one of my fadvourite books; and you know I have a liking for that son-of-a-gun hemingway, so the americanj literarry tradition (and thus its capacity for thought) is alive and well. Rather the problem lies with the bougiousie, the Republican rulers, who see fit to indoctrinate the proletariat with the mythlore of religion.

This is very hard to escape. Religion reminds me of Obsesssive-compulsive disorder (OCD) en mass, where the people believe they have to do strange things, like go o church each slunday, or something bad will happen. It has been used for eons to control people, from Ankor-wat to machu-pichu, and now in washington, Now, I know from my blog-gazing and fanfic-reading that not all americans are infected – La Guera for one is highly critical of god, as shown in this passage:

`”…Whatever you have to. The only bad lie from now on is the one that doesn’t work. Tell her a convenient truth. Tell her you want to help because you know what it’s like to watch a friend suffer, watch them wither before your very eyes, while all you can do is cry and puke and send useless prayers to a God gone stone deaf and blind and half-mad from all the inhumanity He Himself has inflicted upon His “children”. Tell her you don’t want her to go through the same thing. It’s more truth than lie, and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

However, writers and theiir peers aside, the states are infected with a braand of religion which seems to be an infusion of God and the allmighty dollar. Preachers appear on their telivision screens, telling bible stories with hilghly capitalist, rightist subtexts. the bible is now a tool for the marketeers: its only a matter of time before we hear sloggans such as “god drinks Coke”; we have already seen bush using god in his speeches .

Thus, god is now associatwd with all things american. – He is almost a figure of patriotism, as aamerican as apple pie. the americansseem ,to nneed him to validayte what theyre doing, like kids looking to theeir parents. Yet god”s mouth now lies with marketeers, biggots and absolute fools of the republican party, who use it to spurt their own agenda. And this is worrying.

we were talking to my genius brothe on the phone earlier. he pointed out that, were america any other nation, the UN would have imposed sanctions by now. It is currently under something approachhing an absolutist regime which, while infringing civil libities at home, is trouncing upon international law, posturing against other natiions including france. As noted in a previous entry, I know many americans to be good, level-headed people, but there is a core of american “neo-cons” who promote the most distasteful of views using the mos erronious of logic. I believe these are termed “republlicans”, and includ the president.

what worries me is that their numbers are growing. religious fundimentalism is rising with it, and the two seemingly go hand in hand. I note this week Swartsinegger has outlawed gay marriage, citing god as a reason. this tells us two things: 1. that civil liberties are going the way of john cleese’s parrot, and 2 that the separation of church and state has ended.

the 2nd ppoint worries me the most. any reggime which uses religion as a basis is almost always absolutist. it can use religion – a form of mass ocd – to control the populus. it can proclaim itself to act with the authority of god, and all those who oppose it as satanic. hence we see a polarisation in the american mindset in the way bush talkks of good and evil. they forget that it is not black and white, not gonndor vursus mordor, and this fact frightens me.

I fell over in tesco today. I didn’t hurt myself, but the point is i fel so different to everyone else. every fall, every spasm, everuy twitch is starting to great. and if you start to complain, your mum tellss .you your acting liker a spoiled brat. So you boottle it up, tryIng not to let it ge.t to /you. I think of my mates at school, who have it ten times wworse, and remind myself I have nO cause to complain. Yet i also thinkk of the sstaring eeyes of evvery bog-eyed sprog in tesco, who’s mothers wisper “don’t stare”, and i wish for a way to escape, but there is no escape but to bottle one’s feelings up and smile.

This afternoon I finished reading vanessa collingrige’s biography of captain cook. Despite the prose being too flowery in places for what should be a work of academia, it is a fine b9ook. I really got into the mind of the great explorer, as well as developing a good understandinng of the arguments for and against his discovery of jav la grande. It is indeed a well-rounded book, but I reaLise from my sudy of hisory at college the folly of relying souly on one sourse. No doubt collingridge is correct on most counts, though.

as for cook himself, i coulddn’t escapee the ccomparisoon with picard – no doubt one was based on the other. “hoist the mainsail. prepare to get under way. engage”

i was reading stupid white men this weekend, and there is no doubt its a very good book. despite its frakly scary content, the fact remmainn hat it is critical of its government, wwhich is a good sign. Moore is evidence that at least some of the american people are not cought up in thiss stupid, misguided patriootism, and are still capaable of rounded thought. further evidence of this comes from weblogs i read. it sseems the real problem lies, not with the american proletariaat, but with it’s bourgiousie, which controls its government and media. it pipes the false-idols of patriotism and religion to the people, making us fiorigners gasp in horror. the question is why do some americans accept this, while others see its folly?

this evening, i played with lego. as part of film studies, my teacher reccomended i get a programm called lego creator so we can create storyboaards etc, and mine came today. my mind went back to whhen i was little, watching my brothers make models, but all i could manage was a few disjointed bricks, which took hours of concentration and a sodden jumper. but this evening, i made a wall – not much,, just enough to test the programme – but it was a perfectly straight wall, no tension, no frustration, no getting parents to do i. it was almost blissful in the irony. i owe adrian a pint.

I’ve just been out in my chair. went down seimens hill, through park and decided to head into town. thinking the road clear, i was crossing mountbattan way when a czar zoomed past about 50 cm from me at about 60mph. i stopped, turned back, and vanother carr hooted att me. i headed home,, scared shitless. i’m not going out again.

whats more, when heading past thw leisure centre, some lads were pretending i was a monster, shouting “spac attack” etc