We all like to stand out in the cold
From time to time,
Sometimes we forget our scarves,
Or so we say,
And so we must improvise
With lengths of shining wire
Warm and tight.
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Ghost Fraud
The act of writing is a strange thing. More than other actions does it often give one the sense of being a fraud. I imagine that most, if not all, people who have attempted creative writing have looked back at a piece they have just written and asked themself, 'Who has written this? Whose words are these lying on the page? Surely they cannot be mine?' A second reading reveals ideas that were not present when the writer was at labour, a third reading often reveals yet more. If these ideas were not consciously present during the creation of the piece then does this mean that the ideas were conceived by some other? And then there all the echoes, imprints and traces of other writers, writers that have walked these paths many times previously, pioneers who seemingly created the paths at the birth of writing. Writing often feels like walking in the footsteps of these pioneers, only one's feet often feel dwarfed by the colossal footprints of our predecessors. When one looks back at a piece it often feels like a counterfeit; a shoddy imitation or childish reenactment of something that has already been done. It is not just other, older, better writers that rear their horrible, spectral heads within one's piece either. There are all the fragments of songs, films, television, conversations, advertisements, photographs, bulletins, elegies and instructions that are knitted together into a musty patchwork shroud that falls over the piece. It all culminates in a feeling of paranoia that can set in whenever one re-reads their work. If applied to any aspect of life you can probably feel this paranoia if you analyse your actions closely enough. Every action is a kaleidoscope of past life experience that comes together to form the full picture. As writing is such a physical distillation of these experiences, this coming together is more easily noted. The feeling of unease that accompanies this is therefore one that should not worry the writer. We are all frauds. It is the uneasiness of the exhibitionist that sets in, the butterflies in the stomach of the performer before they go on stage.Submit to the ghosts that guide your actions. This is what we do with most actions in our lives. Writing seems to be more of a conduit for the subconscious, and therefore a context where these ghosts are felt more readily. Do not be afraid. We are all ghosts in our selves, ghosts for other people. Our presence is not deceitful, and neither is theirs. Our concern should be with the conduction, once these ghosts are trapped upon the page. The writer should aim to be a ringmaster of ghosts, whipping them into shape for the joy of the assembled crowd. In order to increase the excitement for the audience let the ghosts roam free at first; intensify the drama, instigate excitement, horror, joy. Then rein them in. The applause will follow.
Friday, 13 January 2012
The Shining Wire - draft1
We all like to stand out in the cold
From time to time
Sometimes we forget our scarves
And so we must improvise
With lengths of shining wire
Or so we say
From time to time
Sometimes we forget our scarves
And so we must improvise
With lengths of shining wire
Or so we say
Monday, 9 January 2012
Discharged under other than honorable conditions
FLIGHT CONTROLLER'S LOG
- Latex gloves
- Black wig
- BB pistol with ammunition
- Pepper spray
- Hooded tan trench coat
- 2-pound drilling hammer
- Black gloves
- Rubber tubing
- Plastic garbage bags
- Approximately $585 in cash
- Personal computer
- 8-inch folding knife
- Target's flight information
- Hand-written list of more than 24 items, including sneakers, plastic gloves, contacts, cash, an umbrella, and black sweats
- Floppy disk containing images depicting bondage
- Four brown paper towels
- Sixty-nine unidentified orange pills
- Extra cellphone
I think that Lisa Nowak's inventory is the missing Ballardian link in my term paper.
- Latex gloves
- Black wig
- BB pistol with ammunition
- Pepper spray
- Hooded tan trench coat
- 2-pound drilling hammer
- Black gloves
- Rubber tubing
- Plastic garbage bags
- Approximately $585 in cash
- Personal computer
- 8-inch folding knife
- Target's flight information
- Hand-written list of more than 24 items, including sneakers, plastic gloves, contacts, cash, an umbrella, and black sweats
- Floppy disk containing images depicting bondage
- Four brown paper towels
- Sixty-nine unidentified orange pills
- Extra cellphone
I think that Lisa Nowak's inventory is the missing Ballardian link in my term paper.
Monday, 2 January 2012
Outer space as an utopia - term paper initial thoughts
I received a new laptop for Xmas. It is quite a nice looking creature but unfortunately it is currently formatted with Windows, without any of the Microsoft Office programs. As a result I am having to do any writing on here, until I get Ubuntu put on here (Linux ftw).
* * * * *
My term paper for my Creativity and Utopias module will be examining outer space as an utopia. I'm going to try and commit some thoughts on the matter to writing, in the hope that some form of argument will begin to form which I can then use as the basis of my paper.
The word 'utopia' means 'no-place', and there can be no example more striking as this as outer space, a geographical area consisting of no place whatsoever. There is no up. From outer space, orbiting the Earth, nothing of human society is visible with the naked eye; borders, politics, war, economy; the influential aspects of the human condition are absent, as observed by the astronaut [insert name here]. More profoundly, he found that he was able to obscure the entire planet, and thus humankind, with just the outline of his thumb.
There is a profound romanticism to this. In space, the individual is raised to the level of a deity. Withdrawal from the world and the constraints of society provides the individual with a creative and critical space in which they may formulate their own utopia, in the eutopian sense. In literature to begin with, writers such as Thomas More had to invent a geographical location far removed enough from society so that they could engender and present ideas radical and challenging to their contemporary societies. Later, this geographical distance became a temporal one, explored by time travellers initially in the works of Bellamy and Wells before entire narratives became grounded from the onset in the future. Outer space is able to give a sense of both physical and temporal distance, where distance is in fact measured in time. (There was an essay I read that discusses this, perhaps the discussion between Adorno and Bloch? Need to re-read this)
The legend goes that when Yuri Gagarin was in space he said that he could not find any god up there. In a sense, man's first journey to the stars was a breaking of a fourth wall, a journey beyond the cloud of unknowing surrounding the Earth. Utopian narratives often involve journeying of some description, be it physical or mental, often both. Space travel also involves this, and in making this journey Gagarin was elevated to a state of divinity. He found no man behind the curtain and in doing so took his place. He escaped the static confines of life on Earth, the shuffling monotony of life with the lost ones of Beckett's cylinder.
In a book entitled Non-places, the anthropologist Marc Auge (with an accent over the 'e') looks at the non-places of supermodernity. Places such as supermarkets, airports, train carriages, automated telling machines, motorways, where history is solidified and static, a portrait on the wall or a commodity on the shelf rather than an integrated, interacting facet of the present. This is also outer-space. Auge writes that on entering a non-place the individual hangs up their individuality upon checking-in and then becomes a unit or part of a team/system of users. They are now customers or travellers, and a component of the non-place. This is also outer-space. In Pyke's documentary, Moonbug, the astronauts all share a core set of qualities, or astronaut attributes, without which you could not be an astronaut. These individuals were astronauts, part of the astronaut team. In space this was their role, and the identities were left back on Earth, ready to be picked up again upon their return. The most interesting part of the documentary was how different some of these people were; you had the right-wing astronaut doing his duty, flying up in order to beat the Commies, then you had the left-wing astronaut who went up carrying parchment copies of literature he felt to be important. This was them on Earth, up in outer-space they were two indistinguishable astronauts.
Although Auge's book describes non-places very similarly to no-places, he eventually states than non-places are not utopian as they are not 'organic'. The belief that the utopian is the organic is incorrect in my book however. Utopias are always manufactured. There is always a need for distance from the world in the creation of utopia which cannot be achieved by organic means. One does not naturally travel through time, one is static and always in the present. Life is always beset with a striving towards progress. This is the organic way. Utopias (in a eutopian sense) arrive at progress and eliminate striving. The traveller stumbles upon utopias rather than working towards them, in the manner that the methods for the creation of Jurassic Park, a example of a utopia as a non-place, are criticised by Dr. Ian Malcolm.
Another parallel to be drawn between the utopia and outer space is the return; the journey back to society, with its norms, values and social tyrannies from a space of unfettered existence. The astronauts were thrust from scientific obscurity to international celebrity and continuously thrust into social situations, rather like the Savage in Brave New World, in which they would have felt uncomfortable and incongruous. Gagarin took to alcohol and his marriage became strained, Aldrin and Armstrong became reclusive and shied away from celebrity. (This is slighty conjectual so I'll need to research this somewhat, curse the Ballardian conspiracy fever) Intrusion of the everyday into the utopian ideal never ends well. I shall closely examine the ending of Swift's Gulliver's Travels in order to interrogate/investigate this phenomena.
"He returns to his home in England, but he is unable to reconcile himself to living among Yahoos and becomes a recluse, remaining in his house, largely avoiding his family and his wife, and spending several hours a day speaking with the horses in his stables."
A list of examples of the tragedy that arises in film and literature when characters return from the non-place of utopia to their contemporary individuality is as broad as it is long. For the astronaut it is a complete role-reversal, a journey from one end of the microscope to the other. Creative works about this suggest that powerful physicality and material presence of place over non/no-place works to smother and suffocate immediately following re-entry. The vacuum is filled. Interestingly the effect of trying to breathe in the anti-vacuum of creativity is the same as the astronaut trying to breathe in outer space.
* * * * *
So far these are my ideas on the subject. What is the point or the main thrust of this discussion? That outer space is a prime example of a utopia I suppose. The absence of place in space makes it a complete no place. Anthropologically speaking it could be described as a non-place, looking at the definitions provided by Auge in his book, backed up by Foucault's essay on heteroutopias and the discussion between Adorno and Bloch. Many parallels can also be drawn between literary utopias and travelling to outer space, as well as the return. I should most like to closely examine Swift's Gulliver's Travels and Bradbury's Kaleidoscope, a short story about a group of astronauts floating off into space following the destruction of their rocket. They are only able to communicate via radio as they drift off to their inevitable dooms, with Hollis, the closest thing to a main protagonist, heading back towards Earth. His fatal return through the atmosphere is observed by a mother and son who believe him to be a falling star and make a wish. Resocialisation is deadly when done too quickly, you could say.
To summarise briefly then, the term paper will be about how outer space is a utopia, and how the return from utopia to society is a traumatic. It will use utopian theory and literature to explore ideas surrounding outer space, then use ideas surrounding space to explore utopian theory and literature.
As far as the creative component to my paper goes, I shall be using two fragments I've written re: astronauts already, along with others depending on how many more words I will need to include. I will definitely need to write a fragment dealing with the astronaut's perceptions of the Earth as seen from space, perhaps in the form of a personal journal entry. There should possibly be something to indicate the origin of the astronaut's trauma which arises in the black-box recording, perhaps relating to an intrusion of the Earth within his utopia? Also something concerning his journeying up to space, documenting the 'checking-in' of identity as Auge would put it, would be illuminating but potentially could ruin the mystery I've already built up. I have planned to write a news report about the astronaut's crash but this might not be directly relevant. It could be, concerning society's response to the returning traveller, so we shall see how it comes out.
* * * * *
My term paper for my Creativity and Utopias module will be examining outer space as an utopia. I'm going to try and commit some thoughts on the matter to writing, in the hope that some form of argument will begin to form which I can then use as the basis of my paper.
The word 'utopia' means 'no-place', and there can be no example more striking as this as outer space, a geographical area consisting of no place whatsoever. There is no up. From outer space, orbiting the Earth, nothing of human society is visible with the naked eye; borders, politics, war, economy; the influential aspects of the human condition are absent, as observed by the astronaut [insert name here]. More profoundly, he found that he was able to obscure the entire planet, and thus humankind, with just the outline of his thumb.
There is a profound romanticism to this. In space, the individual is raised to the level of a deity. Withdrawal from the world and the constraints of society provides the individual with a creative and critical space in which they may formulate their own utopia, in the eutopian sense. In literature to begin with, writers such as Thomas More had to invent a geographical location far removed enough from society so that they could engender and present ideas radical and challenging to their contemporary societies. Later, this geographical distance became a temporal one, explored by time travellers initially in the works of Bellamy and Wells before entire narratives became grounded from the onset in the future. Outer space is able to give a sense of both physical and temporal distance, where distance is in fact measured in time. (There was an essay I read that discusses this, perhaps the discussion between Adorno and Bloch? Need to re-read this)
The legend goes that when Yuri Gagarin was in space he said that he could not find any god up there. In a sense, man's first journey to the stars was a breaking of a fourth wall, a journey beyond the cloud of unknowing surrounding the Earth. Utopian narratives often involve journeying of some description, be it physical or mental, often both. Space travel also involves this, and in making this journey Gagarin was elevated to a state of divinity. He found no man behind the curtain and in doing so took his place. He escaped the static confines of life on Earth, the shuffling monotony of life with the lost ones of Beckett's cylinder.
In a book entitled Non-places, the anthropologist Marc Auge (with an accent over the 'e') looks at the non-places of supermodernity. Places such as supermarkets, airports, train carriages, automated telling machines, motorways, where history is solidified and static, a portrait on the wall or a commodity on the shelf rather than an integrated, interacting facet of the present. This is also outer-space. Auge writes that on entering a non-place the individual hangs up their individuality upon checking-in and then becomes a unit or part of a team/system of users. They are now customers or travellers, and a component of the non-place. This is also outer-space. In Pyke's documentary, Moonbug, the astronauts all share a core set of qualities, or astronaut attributes, without which you could not be an astronaut. These individuals were astronauts, part of the astronaut team. In space this was their role, and the identities were left back on Earth, ready to be picked up again upon their return. The most interesting part of the documentary was how different some of these people were; you had the right-wing astronaut doing his duty, flying up in order to beat the Commies, then you had the left-wing astronaut who went up carrying parchment copies of literature he felt to be important. This was them on Earth, up in outer-space they were two indistinguishable astronauts.
Although Auge's book describes non-places very similarly to no-places, he eventually states than non-places are not utopian as they are not 'organic'. The belief that the utopian is the organic is incorrect in my book however. Utopias are always manufactured. There is always a need for distance from the world in the creation of utopia which cannot be achieved by organic means. One does not naturally travel through time, one is static and always in the present. Life is always beset with a striving towards progress. This is the organic way. Utopias (in a eutopian sense) arrive at progress and eliminate striving. The traveller stumbles upon utopias rather than working towards them, in the manner that the methods for the creation of Jurassic Park, a example of a utopia as a non-place, are criticised by Dr. Ian Malcolm.
Another parallel to be drawn between the utopia and outer space is the return; the journey back to society, with its norms, values and social tyrannies from a space of unfettered existence. The astronauts were thrust from scientific obscurity to international celebrity and continuously thrust into social situations, rather like the Savage in Brave New World, in which they would have felt uncomfortable and incongruous. Gagarin took to alcohol and his marriage became strained, Aldrin and Armstrong became reclusive and shied away from celebrity. (This is slighty conjectual so I'll need to research this somewhat, curse the Ballardian conspiracy fever) Intrusion of the everyday into the utopian ideal never ends well. I shall closely examine the ending of Swift's Gulliver's Travels in order to interrogate/investigate this phenomena.
"He returns to his home in England, but he is unable to reconcile himself to living among Yahoos and becomes a recluse, remaining in his house, largely avoiding his family and his wife, and spending several hours a day speaking with the horses in his stables."
A list of examples of the tragedy that arises in film and literature when characters return from the non-place of utopia to their contemporary individuality is as broad as it is long. For the astronaut it is a complete role-reversal, a journey from one end of the microscope to the other. Creative works about this suggest that powerful physicality and material presence of place over non/no-place works to smother and suffocate immediately following re-entry. The vacuum is filled. Interestingly the effect of trying to breathe in the anti-vacuum of creativity is the same as the astronaut trying to breathe in outer space.
* * * * *
So far these are my ideas on the subject. What is the point or the main thrust of this discussion? That outer space is a prime example of a utopia I suppose. The absence of place in space makes it a complete no place. Anthropologically speaking it could be described as a non-place, looking at the definitions provided by Auge in his book, backed up by Foucault's essay on heteroutopias and the discussion between Adorno and Bloch. Many parallels can also be drawn between literary utopias and travelling to outer space, as well as the return. I should most like to closely examine Swift's Gulliver's Travels and Bradbury's Kaleidoscope, a short story about a group of astronauts floating off into space following the destruction of their rocket. They are only able to communicate via radio as they drift off to their inevitable dooms, with Hollis, the closest thing to a main protagonist, heading back towards Earth. His fatal return through the atmosphere is observed by a mother and son who believe him to be a falling star and make a wish. Resocialisation is deadly when done too quickly, you could say.
To summarise briefly then, the term paper will be about how outer space is a utopia, and how the return from utopia to society is a traumatic. It will use utopian theory and literature to explore ideas surrounding outer space, then use ideas surrounding space to explore utopian theory and literature.
As far as the creative component to my paper goes, I shall be using two fragments I've written re: astronauts already, along with others depending on how many more words I will need to include. I will definitely need to write a fragment dealing with the astronaut's perceptions of the Earth as seen from space, perhaps in the form of a personal journal entry. There should possibly be something to indicate the origin of the astronaut's trauma which arises in the black-box recording, perhaps relating to an intrusion of the Earth within his utopia? Also something concerning his journeying up to space, documenting the 'checking-in' of identity as Auge would put it, would be illuminating but potentially could ruin the mystery I've already built up. I have planned to write a news report about the astronaut's crash but this might not be directly relevant. It could be, concerning society's response to the returning traveller, so we shall see how it comes out.
Saturday, 31 December 2011
Goodbye 2011
New Year's Eve has been a bigger draw for me than Xmas for last few years. There is a sense of exciting romanticism that accompanies it, along with a feeling of universalism that few other events can really celebrate. It seems weird to me that there aren't more songs about celebrating the dawn of a new year and a symbolic fresh start for all. Those that I am aware of fail to match up to the lofty standards of the Xmas classics...
Still, there are plenty of other wonderful songs that can be listened to to ring in the New Year. As it seems to be an integral part of the New Year celebration, be it the dance mix at the party or the Jools Holland Hootenanny being watched from the sofa, I shall begin my personal review of 2011 with my top 10 tracks of the year.
Music
1. British Sea Power - Who's In Control?
2. Electric Six - French Bacon
3. Hurts - Sunday
4. The Streets - OMG
5. LMFAO - Party Rock Anthem
6. Maroon 5 feat. Christina Aguilera - Moves Like Jagger
7. Anastasia Vinnikova - I Love Belarus
8. Take That - The Flood
9. Tim McGraw & Gwyneth Paltrow - Me and Tennessee
10. Noah and the Whale - L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N
For yet another year I feel as though I have fallen away from my indie roots. Most of my experience of new music this year came from exposure to MOR radio in the form of Radio 2 and Bright FM at work. I don't think that it has been a very good year for music. Over Xmas I watched both the 2011 TOTP round-up and the 2009 edition, and 2009's 'highlights' were leagues ahead of this year. 2011 has also seen releases by some of my favourite bands (Art Brut and Radiohead most notably) that were very disappointing and remain unpurchased. Fortunately my two top dogs, BSP and E6 remained as reliable as ever. That's as pop-orientated a top 10 single tracks I've probably ever had to be honest, though also probably one of the most positive sounding ones (barring Hurts).
Film
1. Super 8
2. Black Swan
3. Attack the Block
4. Senna
5. Hobo With A Shotgun
I've not seen that many new films this year to be honest, being quite lax at making it out for the new releases. I could probably make a longer list of films I wanted to see but never got around to (I'll watch you one day, Tree of Life!) The top three films were all visually arresting and emotionally engaging, as was my biggest disappointment of the year, Drive. The difference here is that these three all managed to maintain a captivating narrative where Drive rambled onwards into ridiculous, incoherent, over-stylised irrelevance. Honourable mentions for Melancholia, one of the most powerful art-pieces I've seen in the cinema, and Moonbug, an invigorating documentary on a photographer's pursuit of astronauts.
Gigs
1. Amanda Palmer @ Concorde2
2. Final Fantasy: Distant Worlds @ Royal Albert Hall
3. British Sea Power @ Concorde2
I have played in a fair few gigs this year, as well as customarily attending a great deal. 2011 saw the live debut of the Red Diamond Dragon Club, performing several gigs with fluctuating success. It also saw the return of the Sneaky Frog and the Scoundrel and SmoothGay to the live arena. It was a shame not to be able to play more gigs, but such are the constraints that academia, geography and employment present. Hopefully 2012 will see some improvement there. I would recommend seeing Amanda Palmer live to anyone. She is one of the best pure entertainers I have had the pleasure of seeing. Everything she does conveys an enjoyment of her work and it is infectious. Lots to be learnt from that lady.
Books
I don't really keep up to date with books being released, and I didn't really do too much reading outside of uni texts. The best thing I read this year though, and now one of my favourite books ever, would have to be Dracula. The different narrative styles draw you into the world so completely, and the epistollary style gives the tale such dramatic and tense pacing. It is almost a complete masterpiece (the ending could be more exciting and drawn out I feel) and has certainly inspired the direction I would like to go with my astronaut pieces. Other interesting reads have been Linh Dinh's American Tatts, a collection of accessible but varied contemporary poetry, and Zamyatin's We, the novel that inspired 1984.
Achievements
It would be easy to go off on an angsty rant about the bad things that happened in 2011. Far better and more interesting to look at the things that went successfully. First year of part MA complete, boom. First performance with bands and as performance poet complete, boom. First league trophies for FC Kierkegaard in 5-a-side, boom. Formation of the 11-a-side team, Kemp Town FC, boom. Traversing of the West Highland Way and Great Glen Way, boom. First journey outside of Europe, boom. These are the things that stick in my mind when I look back at the good things that happened this past year. Without a doubt there was bad and unfortunate shizzle that took place this year but at the end of the day it's the good things that usually last. Yeah. Postivity an' shit.
New Year's Resolutions
- write more, try and do something creative at least once a day an' shit
- take more photos, events should be documented more thoroughly an' shit
- keep a more comprehensive record of books and films read and watched an' shit
- be brave an' shit
- maintain correspondances an' shit
- review a cooked veggie breakfast once a week
That's probably enough to be getting on with. It's all about being active an' shit.
Happy New Year!
"Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles. And yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play."
Still, there are plenty of other wonderful songs that can be listened to to ring in the New Year. As it seems to be an integral part of the New Year celebration, be it the dance mix at the party or the Jools Holland Hootenanny being watched from the sofa, I shall begin my personal review of 2011 with my top 10 tracks of the year.
Music
1. British Sea Power - Who's In Control?
2. Electric Six - French Bacon
3. Hurts - Sunday
4. The Streets - OMG
5. LMFAO - Party Rock Anthem
6. Maroon 5 feat. Christina Aguilera - Moves Like Jagger
7. Anastasia Vinnikova - I Love Belarus
8. Take That - The Flood
9. Tim McGraw & Gwyneth Paltrow - Me and Tennessee
10. Noah and the Whale - L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N
For yet another year I feel as though I have fallen away from my indie roots. Most of my experience of new music this year came from exposure to MOR radio in the form of Radio 2 and Bright FM at work. I don't think that it has been a very good year for music. Over Xmas I watched both the 2011 TOTP round-up and the 2009 edition, and 2009's 'highlights' were leagues ahead of this year. 2011 has also seen releases by some of my favourite bands (Art Brut and Radiohead most notably) that were very disappointing and remain unpurchased. Fortunately my two top dogs, BSP and E6 remained as reliable as ever. That's as pop-orientated a top 10 single tracks I've probably ever had to be honest, though also probably one of the most positive sounding ones (barring Hurts).
Film
1. Super 8
2. Black Swan
3. Attack the Block
4. Senna
5. Hobo With A Shotgun
I've not seen that many new films this year to be honest, being quite lax at making it out for the new releases. I could probably make a longer list of films I wanted to see but never got around to (I'll watch you one day, Tree of Life!) The top three films were all visually arresting and emotionally engaging, as was my biggest disappointment of the year, Drive. The difference here is that these three all managed to maintain a captivating narrative where Drive rambled onwards into ridiculous, incoherent, over-stylised irrelevance. Honourable mentions for Melancholia, one of the most powerful art-pieces I've seen in the cinema, and Moonbug, an invigorating documentary on a photographer's pursuit of astronauts.
Gigs
1. Amanda Palmer @ Concorde2
2. Final Fantasy: Distant Worlds @ Royal Albert Hall
3. British Sea Power @ Concorde2
I have played in a fair few gigs this year, as well as customarily attending a great deal. 2011 saw the live debut of the Red Diamond Dragon Club, performing several gigs with fluctuating success. It also saw the return of the Sneaky Frog and the Scoundrel and SmoothGay to the live arena. It was a shame not to be able to play more gigs, but such are the constraints that academia, geography and employment present. Hopefully 2012 will see some improvement there. I would recommend seeing Amanda Palmer live to anyone. She is one of the best pure entertainers I have had the pleasure of seeing. Everything she does conveys an enjoyment of her work and it is infectious. Lots to be learnt from that lady.
Books
I don't really keep up to date with books being released, and I didn't really do too much reading outside of uni texts. The best thing I read this year though, and now one of my favourite books ever, would have to be Dracula. The different narrative styles draw you into the world so completely, and the epistollary style gives the tale such dramatic and tense pacing. It is almost a complete masterpiece (the ending could be more exciting and drawn out I feel) and has certainly inspired the direction I would like to go with my astronaut pieces. Other interesting reads have been Linh Dinh's American Tatts, a collection of accessible but varied contemporary poetry, and Zamyatin's We, the novel that inspired 1984.
Achievements
It would be easy to go off on an angsty rant about the bad things that happened in 2011. Far better and more interesting to look at the things that went successfully. First year of part MA complete, boom. First performance with bands and as performance poet complete, boom. First league trophies for FC Kierkegaard in 5-a-side, boom. Formation of the 11-a-side team, Kemp Town FC, boom. Traversing of the West Highland Way and Great Glen Way, boom. First journey outside of Europe, boom. These are the things that stick in my mind when I look back at the good things that happened this past year. Without a doubt there was bad and unfortunate shizzle that took place this year but at the end of the day it's the good things that usually last. Yeah. Postivity an' shit.
New Year's Resolutions
- write more, try and do something creative at least once a day an' shit
- take more photos, events should be documented more thoroughly an' shit
- keep a more comprehensive record of books and films read and watched an' shit
- be brave an' shit
- maintain correspondances an' shit
- review a cooked veggie breakfast once a week
That's probably enough to be getting on with. It's all about being active an' shit.
Happy New Year!
"Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles. And yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play."
Dream Diary
Well gosh darn haven't I been slack at posting on here this month. Ahead of my review of 2011, I would like to present a week-long dream diary I managed to somehow keep a month or so ago. It was a challenge forcing myself to get writing at 6am each morning, but the way the dreams revealed themselves through writing was an exciting experience and one that I would recommend other people try and seek out. Please be aware that I'm not the most cogent writer and such ungodly hours.
Friday 18th November
There was an all-night film event. At a bar with a group of people (Neville's birthday crowd). Having dinner, sitting opposite Hopkinson, she keeps leaving for periods of time and then returning. On way out (closing time) we are all leaving and a tall androgynous woman with slick moustache walks past. Both her and Hopkinson are dressed as 1920s private eyes. Recognising this, Hopkinson says something like a film line about parting lovers, they pretend to go to kiss before the androgyne attempts to go for the real thing. I look away, not wishing to see if its reciprocated and appear saddened in front of everyone. THEN I am in a cornershop, dressed messily, holding a plastic axe. Walsh and McEvoy enter and talk about the films they saw. Zombie invasions are discussed. THEN I am playing football away from the crowd on a hillside, with Huzar and Hertogs (jumpers for goalposts). Using the goal from the other side are an overweight Mr. Brooks plus another. Me and Huzar chat whilst passing and scoring. Mr. Brooks is unhappy about having to retrieve the ball if it comes through to our side too far.
(There were definitely other factors but by the time I'd got this book I'd forgotten them)
Monday 21st November
The first part involved an 11-a-side game against Coach House. We owned them in the 1st half, changed things about in the 2nd but were still pwning but less so (Bidwell was playing for us). We went off for a team talk in the changing rooms and I had a shepherd's crook. Then next bit I remember was parachuting after attempting some rock-climbing as Luther Vandross. I fell off so parachuted down into a field near some rich houses in Scotland. Once in field I struggled to find a way out (in a valley you see) so snuck around inside the houses (almost spied on a woman in a bath) before finding a road with heavy congestion, making it difficult to follow. Suddenly Kelly was there. We ended up going inside a mansion. It suddenly hits me that this is all in America now, and there was an earlier bit to the dream pre-football that was a dinner party at Clifford's house. She was having a relationship with another woman. There were nibbles. Back to the mansion. It was difficult to navigate through the mansion which was labyrinthine, and many were trying to find the set path. There were even bits of pipe suspended over sewage water that needed traversing. Walsh (now there) appeared and stripped to Speedos before jumping in to search for a lever. It was just like the canal, he said. I find my way into a furnished room with sofa and bookshelf. I sit on the sofa with Kelly and look at some Top Trumps sets on the bookshelf. The editions are comics and great American novels (including Ralph Waldo Emerson). Then Han Ho Lam and Agrawal join us. Then some girls come, offering tequila slammers. The others accept but I just ask for the two slices of lemon. Girls sit on Kelly and Agrawal's laps and more are going to come, they say. THEN I am in my bed at 7B Wentworth Street, 2.30am-ish, post-party. My phone is out of battery so I can't call my parents. I hear Hertogs enter, drunk, and although B.Huzar and Neville try to tell him to be quiet he says in an Admiral Ackbar voice that people shouldn't be in bed at this hour.
Tuesday 22nd November - fragments
- I told Kemp Town FC KO for a match in Worthing was 3pm instead of 1pm. Trevor called up, angry
- started going out with Lowe again
- went to Han Ho Lam's house; saw Han Ho Lam and his housemate in an armchair, then Han Ho Lam, someone and Burke on a sofa
- went on a bus, was standing near the back, someone was about to get off so I was readying myself to take their seat
Sunday 20th November - retrospect
In large house with wooden flooring. In my large wooden bedroom. Newman is visiting. Hopkinson knocks on the door; she is merry and has two puppets in the style of Bubbaloo Birds. We chat awhile, all the time I want Newman to go - eventually she does.
Wednesday 23rd November
I am a prefect at Ash Manor. I got to leave early and so set off on a bus to the nearest bus stop so I can catch an earlier bus home. I overshoot and have to walk back from Tongham. Lots of people are at the bus stop now, including B. Huzar. After witnessing some mini-Lemon vans going, a B&H City bus comes. At the bus stop we play a game on a PS w/ TV which is like Resident Evil meets Snake Eater. T. Huzar and Woodhouse are very discussive about it. Woodhouse has forgotten all the patterns in it he used to know. There is one bit with a zombie leech thing that attaches itself to your head, another bit with a naked woman negotiating a trap-filled swamp. Suddenly we're in a haunted house pursuing ghosts for a while (in the style of a video game). The main one is the Captain who keeps teleporting. We almost find him. Standing in a corner with my friends I pretend to get scared and drop my rapier which rolls and falls into a downstairs room. Voices call up saying, "what's going on?" Downstairs is an untidy flat containing Wilkinson and Carrick in pyjamas asleep/reading. They invite us down for tea.
Thursday 24th November
Huzar wants to get a bottle of Courvoisier at the Duke of York's but fortunately I can get money off. Harrison is pleased. Fournier points out that it is half-price with electronic purchases/student discount.
Friday 25th November
Starts off with some form of time-travelling bit ? set in Scotland. We are in the past in a very nice house, belonging to Silver and Combes (I think). We must travel to the house in the present (can't remember why) so we do, which is a much smaller flat (still nice) in an iffy area in Glasgow. We make it there and then come morning we must travel to the train station so King must lead me and anonymous person out of a block of flats that has most of its exits cut off. We eventually get out and take a short walk across town (now Edinburgh) in order to get towards station. I get discombobulated, thinking we're at one end of Park Gardens (a street) when we're at the other. THEN we're playing football. There may have been some 5-a-side. We are preparing for 11-a-side cup game against we discover to be Ferguson's! I jokingly attempt a Cruyff turn to get past Kavanagh which fails. THEN in a house preparing for a gig. Mr. and Mrs. Huzar are present. We are practicing for a gig downstairs in a courtyard. Something happens which leads to a traditional smoking of cigars, but as me and Huzar are having to sleep in that room later I tell everyone to stop. We are practicing. D. Hertogs discusses with L. Hertogs and others essential foods we need for lunch - cheese, tomatoes, bread etc. I distribute information about the strike out the window whilst Huzar plays in another band down below. Millar notices me do this (I also think I throw out a gummy lizard thing of great relevance which I've forgotten now). I also attempt to throw some strike literature into Combes' next door neighbours but it got stuck in the gutter. Combes shows me a trophy she's won for teaching. Me, Huzar, Spottiswoode and Sykes practice jamming, improvising lyrics. Huzar improvises first. Then it is my turn, about to start but then Hopkinson comes in and commandeers the snare drum and mic. She has a new (!) tattoo on her forearm; a childish drawing of herself wearing a hoodie with her first name written on it. She says that the drawing is wearing my hoodie. My hoodie is green though, whereas this one is pink. It turns out that she is colour-blind.
I think I will endeavour to get back to recording dreams in the new year. I may need to make my bedroom warmer though, as presently the main struggle is the battle against the cold.
Friday 18th November
There was an all-night film event. At a bar with a group of people (Neville's birthday crowd). Having dinner, sitting opposite Hopkinson, she keeps leaving for periods of time and then returning. On way out (closing time) we are all leaving and a tall androgynous woman with slick moustache walks past. Both her and Hopkinson are dressed as 1920s private eyes. Recognising this, Hopkinson says something like a film line about parting lovers, they pretend to go to kiss before the androgyne attempts to go for the real thing. I look away, not wishing to see if its reciprocated and appear saddened in front of everyone. THEN I am in a cornershop, dressed messily, holding a plastic axe. Walsh and McEvoy enter and talk about the films they saw. Zombie invasions are discussed. THEN I am playing football away from the crowd on a hillside, with Huzar and Hertogs (jumpers for goalposts). Using the goal from the other side are an overweight Mr. Brooks plus another. Me and Huzar chat whilst passing and scoring. Mr. Brooks is unhappy about having to retrieve the ball if it comes through to our side too far.
(There were definitely other factors but by the time I'd got this book I'd forgotten them)
Monday 21st November
The first part involved an 11-a-side game against Coach House. We owned them in the 1st half, changed things about in the 2nd but were still pwning but less so (Bidwell was playing for us). We went off for a team talk in the changing rooms and I had a shepherd's crook. Then next bit I remember was parachuting after attempting some rock-climbing as Luther Vandross. I fell off so parachuted down into a field near some rich houses in Scotland. Once in field I struggled to find a way out (in a valley you see) so snuck around inside the houses (almost spied on a woman in a bath) before finding a road with heavy congestion, making it difficult to follow. Suddenly Kelly was there. We ended up going inside a mansion. It suddenly hits me that this is all in America now, and there was an earlier bit to the dream pre-football that was a dinner party at Clifford's house. She was having a relationship with another woman. There were nibbles. Back to the mansion. It was difficult to navigate through the mansion which was labyrinthine, and many were trying to find the set path. There were even bits of pipe suspended over sewage water that needed traversing. Walsh (now there) appeared and stripped to Speedos before jumping in to search for a lever. It was just like the canal, he said. I find my way into a furnished room with sofa and bookshelf. I sit on the sofa with Kelly and look at some Top Trumps sets on the bookshelf. The editions are comics and great American novels (including Ralph Waldo Emerson). Then Han Ho Lam and Agrawal join us. Then some girls come, offering tequila slammers. The others accept but I just ask for the two slices of lemon. Girls sit on Kelly and Agrawal's laps and more are going to come, they say. THEN I am in my bed at 7B Wentworth Street, 2.30am-ish, post-party. My phone is out of battery so I can't call my parents. I hear Hertogs enter, drunk, and although B.Huzar and Neville try to tell him to be quiet he says in an Admiral Ackbar voice that people shouldn't be in bed at this hour.
Tuesday 22nd November - fragments
- I told Kemp Town FC KO for a match in Worthing was 3pm instead of 1pm. Trevor called up, angry
- started going out with Lowe again
- went to Han Ho Lam's house; saw Han Ho Lam and his housemate in an armchair, then Han Ho Lam, someone and Burke on a sofa
- went on a bus, was standing near the back, someone was about to get off so I was readying myself to take their seat
Sunday 20th November - retrospect
In large house with wooden flooring. In my large wooden bedroom. Newman is visiting. Hopkinson knocks on the door; she is merry and has two puppets in the style of Bubbaloo Birds. We chat awhile, all the time I want Newman to go - eventually she does.
Wednesday 23rd November
I am a prefect at Ash Manor. I got to leave early and so set off on a bus to the nearest bus stop so I can catch an earlier bus home. I overshoot and have to walk back from Tongham. Lots of people are at the bus stop now, including B. Huzar. After witnessing some mini-Lemon vans going, a B&H City bus comes. At the bus stop we play a game on a PS w/ TV which is like Resident Evil meets Snake Eater. T. Huzar and Woodhouse are very discussive about it. Woodhouse has forgotten all the patterns in it he used to know. There is one bit with a zombie leech thing that attaches itself to your head, another bit with a naked woman negotiating a trap-filled swamp. Suddenly we're in a haunted house pursuing ghosts for a while (in the style of a video game). The main one is the Captain who keeps teleporting. We almost find him. Standing in a corner with my friends I pretend to get scared and drop my rapier which rolls and falls into a downstairs room. Voices call up saying, "what's going on?" Downstairs is an untidy flat containing Wilkinson and Carrick in pyjamas asleep/reading. They invite us down for tea.
Thursday 24th November
Huzar wants to get a bottle of Courvoisier at the Duke of York's but fortunately I can get money off. Harrison is pleased. Fournier points out that it is half-price with electronic purchases/student discount.
Friday 25th November
Starts off with some form of time-travelling bit ? set in Scotland. We are in the past in a very nice house, belonging to Silver and Combes (I think). We must travel to the house in the present (can't remember why) so we do, which is a much smaller flat (still nice) in an iffy area in Glasgow. We make it there and then come morning we must travel to the train station so King must lead me and anonymous person out of a block of flats that has most of its exits cut off. We eventually get out and take a short walk across town (now Edinburgh) in order to get towards station. I get discombobulated, thinking we're at one end of Park Gardens (a street) when we're at the other. THEN we're playing football. There may have been some 5-a-side. We are preparing for 11-a-side cup game against we discover to be Ferguson's! I jokingly attempt a Cruyff turn to get past Kavanagh which fails. THEN in a house preparing for a gig. Mr. and Mrs. Huzar are present. We are practicing for a gig downstairs in a courtyard. Something happens which leads to a traditional smoking of cigars, but as me and Huzar are having to sleep in that room later I tell everyone to stop. We are practicing. D. Hertogs discusses with L. Hertogs and others essential foods we need for lunch - cheese, tomatoes, bread etc. I distribute information about the strike out the window whilst Huzar plays in another band down below. Millar notices me do this (I also think I throw out a gummy lizard thing of great relevance which I've forgotten now). I also attempt to throw some strike literature into Combes' next door neighbours but it got stuck in the gutter. Combes shows me a trophy she's won for teaching. Me, Huzar, Spottiswoode and Sykes practice jamming, improvising lyrics. Huzar improvises first. Then it is my turn, about to start but then Hopkinson comes in and commandeers the snare drum and mic. She has a new (!) tattoo on her forearm; a childish drawing of herself wearing a hoodie with her first name written on it. She says that the drawing is wearing my hoodie. My hoodie is green though, whereas this one is pink. It turns out that she is colour-blind.
I think I will endeavour to get back to recording dreams in the new year. I may need to make my bedroom warmer though, as presently the main struggle is the battle against the cold.
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