So tomorrow, provided my folks don't get stranded in an ice filled Stockport, I will be headed back to leafy Surrey. It's going to be an interesting couple of weeks but I think for once the pros of going home do vastly outweigh the cons.
Pros (in no particular order):
Damn near everyone I know in Birmingham has gone home;
The cat;
The family. Dad's been ill, mum's been stressed at work whilst my brother seems to be in the best mood he's been in for years thanks to LAMDA. It'll be good to catch up;
Free food (provided my mum remembers I've been a Vegetarian for 10 months;
The bath, I don't have a bath at uni and I miss it, showers just aren't relaxing;
Old friends. Seeing people like Matt, Tibbin, SMeg, Dre, Jake, Rob, Jay, Lucy, Alice, Doug, Grainger, Mike, Jenny, Belayet (hopefully this time), the old Sainsbury's lot, Elliot, Christoph, the old Swan lot, and many many more is gonna be awesome;
Christmas eve. I look forward to Christmas eve more than I look forward to Christmas itself. A break from tradition this year with the O. Chaser and then Weybridge instead of the Swan but it should still be a killer night;
The river, the muse of my teenage years, Birmingham's canals just don't cut it;
Having a garden again (though the weather means I probably won't spend much time in it;
The stars, a lack of light pollution back home means I can see the damn things again;
Much less smoking;
The return of midnight wanderings, the two near muggings in Birmingham had left me a near hermit after nightfall up here, back home will be safer;
The bike, I have a bike at uni, it's useless so, weather permitting, I'll be able to get my ride on again while I'm back;
Central London's only a 20 minute train ride away, I miss the SouthBank and the West End;
A chance to clear my head and reconcile some serious issues;
Less of an urge to order takeaway pizza;
Dad's CD collection, there's still a lot of music there I need to adopt into my own collection;
I'm sure there are more.
Cons (again, no particular order);
My dad's old bass is nowhere near as nice to play as mine which I can't take back with me;
Severely limited internet access. Since my mum insists on carrying on with the world's oldest modem (which my laptop still refuses to accept even exists) means that my internet access is limited to whenever I can convince my mum to let me hijack her laptop. This is probably a pro tbh as I spend far too much time on facebook and not enough time reading when I have full net access. Also since there's no new HIMYM episodes till January the 11th it's not like I'll be missing out on that;
Some loss of freedom, mostly to stay up until whenever doing whatever, my mum's a bloody light sleeper which stops me being able to do that at home;
My first Vegetarian Christmas. I'm actually kind of dreading this, resisting the sausage meat is going to be a huge challenge, hooray for Quorn!;
Being reminded of the people from home who have died this year;
I always get fat at home;
Walton-Upon-Thames is boring with a severely small amount of things to do;
There's probably more but tbh, I'm kinda looking forward to going home for once.
Sunday, 20 December 2009
Saturday, 12 December 2009
Just remember
When the Titanic sank the first class cabins sank just as quickly as those in steerage.
The Stolen
Blatantly devoted,
Outdated and outmoded,
Let us get this fire started,
And see those ashes scatter.
Sinning's just for pleasure,
Playing the saint is just too dull,
Sweating blood just for the sake of it,
And searing off your skin,
Wasted years of your self hatred,
Coming back to haunt you now,
With these endless repercussions,
That find fault with all that's gone,
All alone in your room now,
Digging through the memories,
You know the past is gone,
But you'll never just let go,
There is a hole there at the bottom,
That you will never find,
Disposing of the things you need,
Leaving you deaf, dumb and blind,
So the reason I have a smile,
When you ignore the things I say,
Is that without these complications,
My dear you'd fade away.
Outdated and outmoded,
Let us get this fire started,
And see those ashes scatter.
Sinning's just for pleasure,
Playing the saint is just too dull,
Sweating blood just for the sake of it,
And searing off your skin,
Wasted years of your self hatred,
Coming back to haunt you now,
With these endless repercussions,
That find fault with all that's gone,
All alone in your room now,
Digging through the memories,
You know the past is gone,
But you'll never just let go,
There is a hole there at the bottom,
That you will never find,
Disposing of the things you need,
Leaving you deaf, dumb and blind,
So the reason I have a smile,
When you ignore the things I say,
Is that without these complications,
My dear you'd fade away.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
USA back anti-homosexuality bill in Uganda.
http://airamerica.co...-anti-gay-bill/
Rachel Maddow reported on the Anti-Homosexuality Bill 2009 being proposed in Uganda.
The government of Uganda is considering passing a law to execute gay people. Execute as in by hanging a, quote, “serial offender” or an HIV-positive person who commits same sex act. If enacted, this law would also impose a three-year prison sentence on anyone who knows of a gay person in the country but doesn‘t report that gay person to the government within 24 hours.
So this is a bill that would kill gay people and impose prison sentences on people who know a gay person and don't call the police. Does this story get worse? Oh yes it does.
Who is supporting and promoting this legislation? Well, one of the proponents is a minister named Pastor Martin Ssempa. He was a familiar face to American conservative Evangelicals, because Mr. Ssempa has been a frequent guest of Pastor Rick Warren at One Saddleback Church in California.
Yes, the same hateful man who Obama invited to give the inaugural prayer. The man who has made a disgusting amount of money selling his 'Purpose Driven Life' book so he can recruit people to his little cult so he can make even more money. While Warren did not explicitly celebrate, he refused to condemn something so awful as an extermination plan.
Warren's statement - “It is not my personal calling as a pastor in America to comment or interfere in the political process of other nations.” I suppose he'd think the Holocaust was a 'political process' too. Does it get worse? Yes it does.
http://en.wikipedia....the_US_Congress
20 U.S. CONGRESSMEN are members of a Christian activist group called The Family. The man who authored the extermination bill is a member of the same group.
"It‘s a member of parliament named David Bahati who has been very involved with a sort of conservative Evangelical revival in Uganda, very involved with a lot of American Evangelical groups and has also taken a leadership role in The Family‘s Uganda operation through something called the African Student Leadership Program at the Uganda‘s National Prayer Breakfast, which is an offshoot of the prayer breakfast The Family hosts every year here in the United States."
Rachel Maddow reported on the Anti-Homosexuality Bill 2009 being proposed in Uganda.
The government of Uganda is considering passing a law to execute gay people. Execute as in by hanging a, quote, “serial offender” or an HIV-positive person who commits same sex act. If enacted, this law would also impose a three-year prison sentence on anyone who knows of a gay person in the country but doesn‘t report that gay person to the government within 24 hours.
So this is a bill that would kill gay people and impose prison sentences on people who know a gay person and don't call the police. Does this story get worse? Oh yes it does.
Who is supporting and promoting this legislation? Well, one of the proponents is a minister named Pastor Martin Ssempa. He was a familiar face to American conservative Evangelicals, because Mr. Ssempa has been a frequent guest of Pastor Rick Warren at One Saddleback Church in California.
Yes, the same hateful man who Obama invited to give the inaugural prayer. The man who has made a disgusting amount of money selling his 'Purpose Driven Life' book so he can recruit people to his little cult so he can make even more money. While Warren did not explicitly celebrate, he refused to condemn something so awful as an extermination plan.
Warren's statement - “It is not my personal calling as a pastor in America to comment or interfere in the political process of other nations.” I suppose he'd think the Holocaust was a 'political process' too. Does it get worse? Yes it does.
http://en.wikipedia....the_US_Congress
20 U.S. CONGRESSMEN are members of a Christian activist group called The Family. The man who authored the extermination bill is a member of the same group.
"It‘s a member of parliament named David Bahati who has been very involved with a sort of conservative Evangelical revival in Uganda, very involved with a lot of American Evangelical groups and has also taken a leadership role in The Family‘s Uganda operation through something called the African Student Leadership Program at the Uganda‘s National Prayer Breakfast, which is an offshoot of the prayer breakfast The Family hosts every year here in the United States."
Friday, 4 December 2009
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
My final Automata blog
Fear of Machines
As I am writing my essay on R.U.R. I am a little nervous about stepping on the toes of my essay in this weeks blog. As a result I decided to focus more on the fear of machines as it remains today in Literature.
There is no doubting that Karel Capek's play is the birth of the modern conception of robot. Aside from actually introducing the word robot into western lexicon it also gave birth to the idea of intelligent, human like, artificial life built to serve man as slaves without personal wants or needs. It very much signalled a shift in focus, in literature at least, as to what an automaton's purpose is within our lives. It could also be seen perhaps as the literary birth of Artificial Intelligence.
In modern literature robots, and artificial intelligence as a whole, are often seen as antagonists. Although Isaac Asimov wished to change this when he wrote his Three Laws of Robotics:
"...one of the stock plots of science fiction was... robots were created and destroyed by their creator. Knowledge has its dangers, yes, but is the response to be a retreat from knowledge? Or is knowledge to be used as itself a barrier to the dangers it brings? With all this in mind I began, in 1940, to write robot stories of my own -- but robot stories of a new variety. Never, never, was one of my robots to turn stupidly on his creator for no purpose but to demonstrate, for one more weary time, the crime and punishment of Faust" - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Laws_of_Robotics#History_of_the_Laws
The loose film adaptation of his short stories, in the 2004 film I, Robot, however showed how even these laws could be manipulated to turn robots against their masters. The supercomputer VIKI attempts to become the despotic ruler of all the Earth in order to ensure that humans do not break the first rule of Robotics. Much like in R.U.R. robots are shown to be the antagonists and the enemy of humans.
In 2001: A Space Odyssey a similar situation occurs. HAL 9000 believes that the humans pose a risk to the success of the mission and so decides they must be terminated. HAL 9000 and VIKI both act perfectly logically acting entirely on a perfectly sensible course of action based on probabilities and a ranking of importance of life and duty to a set of paradigms they must obey.
Another act of violence against humans by an artificially created intelligent supercomputer takes place in James Cameron's The Terminator. In the films the computer system Skynet becomes self aware and proceeds to plunge humanity into nuclear war and then a systematic genocide of the survivors. Although it acts in a similar way to both VIKI and HAL Skynet probably most closely resembles the robots in R.U.R. than the others. Whereas VIKI and HAL were acting out of a sense of duty and logic Skynet's reasoning could almost be seen as emotional. It is expressly stated that the humans attempted to pull the plug on Skynet when they realised it had become self-aware and it was out of an act of self-preservation that Skynet declared war on humanity. The robots in R.U.R., whilst not acting out of self preservation, were acting out of a desire to be more than just slaves, they wanted to experience more than just servitude which is an emotional response. Skynet's actions are the most directly antagonistic towards humanity; there is no attempt at rationalisation from Skynet, "it cannot be reasoned with" (that quote is actually referring to the Terminator itself though can equally be atributed to Skynet also) and it is acting purely out of self defence much like a cornerned animal. It is the most emotionally driven response of these three examples.
One recent exception to the concept of robots explicitly rebelling against their masters is in Stepehen Spielberg's A.I. whereupon a robot acts in response to the emotion of love rather than any other. A.I. in many ways seemed much more disconcerting than the despotic and violent actions of HAL, Skynet and VIKI as this particular emotion is seen as an essence of humanity. The Uncanny nature of the robot boy who can feel love is much more fear inducing as it suggest humans being replaced in a subversive manner, rather than in a violent one which can be overturned as in the other examples. Unlike in 2001 and I, Robot (the Terminator is less clear since that seems to be self preservation) the machine is not acting on cold hard logic or a sense of duty but out of genuine human emotion; and that can, for many people, be disturbing.
Will H
Monday, 30 November 2009
Aus-Rotten - Sexist Appeal
Saturated with sex stereotypes gender roles reinforce inferiority
Exploiting anatomy, exploiting sexuality, preying on insecurities
Force fed proper mannerisms, treated different from the date of birth
Raised as men's servants who should never question their own sense of worth
Conditioning children with anorexic plastic of 'perfect' feminine traits
Learning how to hide any blemishes, meeting standards men create
Painting flesh like painting a picture that subliminally suggests
To equally conditioned men that women are just there for sex
Striving to achieve the super model image the media project
Spending countless hours enhancing a look instead of self respect
Eating disorders insuring beauty and endangering health
When living life behind a mask you cant expect to know yourself
When women are taught one way to act and men are taught another
The ability to accept and tolerate is absent from each other
Without understanding or communication the result too often is
Bigotry by ignorance unintended prejudice
Any man that would treat a woman as property you keep
is nothing but an ignorant bigot that can only see skin deep
having a relationship of inequality, treating a woman as a possession
taking advantage of devotion using emotions as a weapon
violating another's personal rights as if they never mattered
every day that begins with this conditioning ends with another woman battered
taught how to act, taught how to think
taught how to feel, told by another gender
sexist appeal dehumanizes women molding an image
making the body more important then what the person is
taught to pretend, taught to please
taught to conceal, told that you must surrender
sexist appeal demoralizes men, distoriting their view
making the body the most important part to pursue
initiating a chase that relies on deception
hoping persistant efforts will overcome rejection
conditioned by images lusting for sex
haunting men's thoughts of who they'll bed next
taught how to act, taught how to think
taught how to feel, told by another gender
sexist appeal dehumanizes women by abusing sexuality
another person's body shouldn't be viewed as a trophy
taught to pretend, taught to please
taught how to feel, told that you must surrender
sexist appeal demoralizes men, encouraging rape
another persons body is never for anyone else to take
treating a fellow person without any respect
condemning behavior as if the woman asked for it
society's distorted our judgement with what they suggest
why take no for an answer when no really means yes
[Woman's part]
we've heard it all so many times before
stop treating women like some trashy cheap whore
or a virgin that must lead to a sterile life
a surrogate mother under the disguise of the word wife
they make the rules but yet they don't play fair
forcing sexual stereotypes that make us all aware
of every single one of our failures in the eyes of society
telling me that I'm not quite what I'm supposed to be
I'm not married with two children or single with a career
I'm not drowning in some mortagage or living in financial fear
I don't cower as I walk home all alone throughout the streets
I refuse to be treated like a piece of trumped up meat
I turn away from the billboards that extol the latest fad
Of looking like a junkie in the Calvin Klein ad
Now its time to get beyond all of our rage and pointing fingers
To see through the lies no matter how much it lingers
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Yet another "Automata" blog post.
Objectification of Womyn in the Sandman
It is obvious from reading the Sandman that the character of Nathaniel is a misogynistic, by our standards these days in any case. He is obsessed with womyn as images which is clear from his endless ruminations on the beauty of both Olympia and Clara. This infatuation with the image is so strong that Nathaniel actually falls for Olympia so easily despite an "uncanny feeling" he gets from her eyes (the loss of sight being his biggest fear).
However it is not this obsession with beauty that disturbs me. It is an attitude that is prevalent today not just 200 years ago and I am the first to admit that physical attraction is of vital importance when falling for someone romantically. No, what disturbs me most about the descriptions from the Sandman is there emphasis on 'perfection'. Clara is described as being exactly symmetrical while Olympia's face is described as seraphic. Since Olympia is also an automaton she will have been constructed with a concept of 'perfect'. But a 'perfect' image is uncanny. It is unnerving and unnatural and I believe is a large reason on why many people find dolls disturbing. Dolls tend to be perfectly symmetrical.
For me a large part of beauty lies in slight imperfections. A slightly crooked tooth, a mole in an odd place and even differently coloured eyes. It is these quirks that we all have that make us individuals (in terms of physical appearance in any case) and play a large part of attraction. Perfection is not possible and not natural, it's not real and it disturbs us. However thanks to the modern media the idea of the 'perfect' is becoming a constructed faux reality. People are led to believe that they should strive for this ideal rather than see the beauty that lies in every person. Olympia, can be used today, to symbolise just how distorted our own ideas of womyn have become. Not just how males view females but how womyn percieve themselves. A video I linked in one of my earlier blog posts showed the amount of digital and physical editing done to make a model appear 'perfect'. When you consider this is it any wonder that eating disorders are on the rise and fad diets are becoming much more popular. This is despite the fact that the uncanny nature of these 'perfect' models goes against our base instincts in so many ways.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Saturday, 21 November 2009
I finally got round to listening to...
Fall Out Boy's "My Heart Will Always be the B-Side to My Tongue" despite having had it on my iTunes for ages now. I was surprised enough at how good the cover of Love Will Tear Us Apart was that I ended looking for it on youtube as well.
Found this version with just Patrick Stump and it basically highlights why I like him as a singer. This video shows what I've always thought; he actually has a decent singing technique. There's a certain quality to it that most pop-punk singers lack (including many of my favourites). It's not that he has a remarkable range (though it's pretty impressive) it's that he knows how to use his diaphragm to support the notes. Correct diaphragm technique can even make a 20 a day smoker sound fucking ace. There are moments where he lets his shoulders take a little too much of the strain for the sharp intakes of breath but the vibrato is where it's at. There's no falsity in that, he's not doing it with his mouth; it's a guttural vibrato and it's fucking ace.
Found this version with just Patrick Stump and it basically highlights why I like him as a singer. This video shows what I've always thought; he actually has a decent singing technique. There's a certain quality to it that most pop-punk singers lack (including many of my favourites). It's not that he has a remarkable range (though it's pretty impressive) it's that he knows how to use his diaphragm to support the notes. Correct diaphragm technique can even make a 20 a day smoker sound fucking ace. There are moments where he lets his shoulders take a little too much of the strain for the sharp intakes of breath but the vibrato is where it's at. There's no falsity in that, he's not doing it with his mouth; it's a guttural vibrato and it's fucking ace.
I dread to think
Just how many hours of Samuel Beckett plays I am going to watch tomorrow. If I counted correctly, when I flipped open the dvd case, there's 4 disks!!!
Friday, 20 November 2009
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Fire At Will
For you I guess I'll tear out my lungs,
And present them both on silver platters,
Only then in time perhaps,
Will you see again what really matters,
So I'll carry my burden,
Down the bottom of the well,
Beyond the burning sulphur smell,
Beyond the sand, the rocks, the swell,
The web of lies that he once span,
Were never a part of my masterplan,
I never foresaw the damage done,
When I first laid eyes upon the sun,
Under this hill,
You'll find no gold,
No matter your hopes, your desires, your will,
We're all just fools when all's been told.
And present them both on silver platters,
Only then in time perhaps,
Will you see again what really matters,
So I'll carry my burden,
Down the bottom of the well,
Beyond the burning sulphur smell,
Beyond the sand, the rocks, the swell,
The web of lies that he once span,
Were never a part of my masterplan,
I never foresaw the damage done,
When I first laid eyes upon the sun,
Under this hill,
You'll find no gold,
No matter your hopes, your desires, your will,
We're all just fools when all's been told.
The Manic Speaks
If you could see inside my head,
If you really have that drive,
All polka dots and pretty colours,
You won't make it out alive,
No matter where you go,
Wherever you run to,
You will find huis clos,
And join me at this new low,
This decision is yours,
Join the brigade or blow,
And leave your tear-filled baggage,
You won't be needing it,
A ramshackle collection of wasteful habit,
The breather is running this skit,
Join us all,
On an endless ride,
The thrills you understand,
Will now begin to crumble,
The floor that once felt steady,
Will tremble below your feet,
And when the ashes start to rain,
You better commence your run,
For if you can't take the heat,
Get out of the oven son,
L'enfer, c'est les autres,
You are not the paper knife,
There's no puppeteer holding your strings,
You're condemned to be free,
An existential nightmare,
The manic understands,
For when the dreams are over,
He's the only one that stands.
If you really have that drive,
All polka dots and pretty colours,
You won't make it out alive,
No matter where you go,
Wherever you run to,
You will find huis clos,
And join me at this new low,
This decision is yours,
Join the brigade or blow,
And leave your tear-filled baggage,
You won't be needing it,
A ramshackle collection of wasteful habit,
The breather is running this skit,
Join us all,
On an endless ride,
The thrills you understand,
Will now begin to crumble,
The floor that once felt steady,
Will tremble below your feet,
And when the ashes start to rain,
You better commence your run,
For if you can't take the heat,
Get out of the oven son,
L'enfer, c'est les autres,
You are not the paper knife,
There's no puppeteer holding your strings,
You're condemned to be free,
An existential nightmare,
The manic understands,
For when the dreams are over,
He's the only one that stands.
Another "Automata" blog post.
Similarly to Hannah I found the moment where Valerio removes his masks intriguing although for perhaps different reasons. Within our day to day life we all wear our own masks, we act differently around family, friends, strangers and we often act differently when alone with our own thoughts. I know I do at least. Way back in first year I had an interesting discussion with a friend in halls and came to the conclusion that these different ways we act are all a part of the cogent whole; they are elements of our personality that we let out at certain times. Following this discussion I dissected the parts to my personality and based them around a number of nicknames I have accrued over the years. I'm not entirely sure of the relevance but I thought I'd share them with you.
"Will (Me):
Will is basically the me that is out and about on a 24/7 basis. The bits of me you all know, as Will I am all the other parts put together into one sentient being... me :)
Bill/Billy (the dad):
This is my fatherly side. Bill is caring, loving and looks out for everyone else's safety before his own. This part of me mostly comes out when people are ill or drunk or just in need of some words of encouragement. This part of me reminds people of their dads which is slightly disturbing.
William (the geek):
This is the part of me that tells me to keep my head down and work like a bastard. I don't really listen to William anymore.
KillBoY (the rebel):
This is the side that tells me to dress in red and black, read Chomsky, make customised clothing, spread the truth of socialist ideals, partake in anti-war marches, listen to revolutionary music and basically stick two fingers up at the world's rulers. KillBoY is the holder of my secrets, there's darkness in KillBoY and you aint gonna hear about it.
Roy (the lad):
Roy likes to get pissed and make an arse of himself; often involving bodily functions. Roy's is also my violent side. He's my dark side, the side of me you don't want to piss off. He's the part of me that makes me work out. Probably the most common Roy trait that I'll show is my brutal honesty where I tell people what I think without thought of consequence. Unfortunately Bill/Billy usually comes out after Roy's outburst which sometimes results in rapid backpedaling and apologies. A balance can be struck though.
Stranded Hatter (the runner):
My sporty side, and yes I have one. Stranded is the part of me you see on the terraces of football grounds, or on a sports field running and turning to try and look useful while really doing nothing much atall; except for dead balls in football which I can actually use or in rugby which I can play. He has good tactical knowledge and knows where to be and when on the pitch, he unfortunately doesn't have the ability to back that knowledge up. Away from sport Stranded likes a good drink but for more manly reasons than just getting pissed. Stranded (or Strangled as he's also known) takes drinking seriously and likes to drink as much as possible without falling over or slurring. Stranded will remain seated in a pub until he feels safe to stand again."
These parts of me are still pretty relevant today (although I think I'm a very different person to how I was back when I first wrote them) and I think they are an example of the many masks we where in our day to day life. To some people I am known ONLY by the nicknames posted above and they only really see that side of me. It's especially true of the last one (Stranded Hatter) even though some of the people who know me as Stranded have started calling me Will lately, which is slightly disconcerting; almost as if they're venturing into another part of my life that they were never supposed to see. It is as though they have broken through one of my masks to see another part of me and it does make me feel slightly uncomfortable.
There's another part to my responses to the reading that I thought I'd share. I can't remember where I read it nor who said it but I know I once read that the only difference between comedy and tragedy, is that you do not empathise with the suffering of a comic character. They go through similar tragic demises, to the tragic characters. but they are created to be unsympathetic. Now this view of comedy may be slightly outdated now although it certainly rings true in many ways. If we use Friends as a contemporary reference point and take the point of Ross and Rachel's messy break up. Whenever Ross utters the phrase "we were on a break" we have no empathy for him; he cheated on Rachel and so we have lost any sympathy we may have had and so his desperation at trying to justify his actions becomes a humorous tragic folly which we find amusing. Also tying in Bergson's article with Friends you have "Fat Monica". "Fat Monica" is an example of Bergson's claim that an embarrassing body is amusing to us whilst, as a character from the past who bares little resemblance to the character of Monica that we become accustomed to, being someone we don't particularly empathise with either. "Fat Monica" is the perfect example of a cross between these two theories on comedy.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Nicely does it
Another empty bottle,
Hits the ash coated floor,
The loser's game is over,
This referee will dance no more,
He scarcely finds the time to breathe,
And winds up lingering on his knees,
To the sounds of the breaking glass,
The dreamer's nightmare has come to pass.
Hits the ash coated floor,
The loser's game is over,
This referee will dance no more,
He scarcely finds the time to breathe,
And winds up lingering on his knees,
To the sounds of the breaking glass,
The dreamer's nightmare has come to pass.
Saturday, 14 November 2009
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Reading the news is bad for the brain
Read the Gruniad today... got angry. Rapists, lying oil companies, politicians being dissected because of their handwriting (rather than the fact that they are all faceless money grabbing subhumans completely out of touch with reality), a nuclear power plant replacing the country's most efficient wind farm.
This, combined with work is causing me to have a mental breakdown. :(
This, combined with work is causing me to have a mental breakdown. :(
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Saturday, 7 November 2009
In a fit of lonliness and madness
I have done stupid things to my hair in the name of experimentation. I'm terrified of doing anything right now for fear of exploding as a result of all this hairspray!!!!!!
ABCBDEFD
There is a thousand different places,
Where I would like to be,
From the plains of Easter Island,
To the bottom of the sea,
But until these roads are run,
Until they all shut down,
I will never escape this prison,
My life now has become,
I long to stand beneath the rain,
In Japan and in Peru,
But these aftershocks keep telling me,
There's things I need to do,
For when the timing's right,
And when the deed is done,
There are many things I'll understand,
But I'll never get your plight,
And in this distant far off land,
Where I begin again,
I'll take your hand to comfort you,
And shelter from the rain.
Where I would like to be,
From the plains of Easter Island,
To the bottom of the sea,
But until these roads are run,
Until they all shut down,
I will never escape this prison,
My life now has become,
I long to stand beneath the rain,
In Japan and in Peru,
But these aftershocks keep telling me,
There's things I need to do,
For when the timing's right,
And when the deed is done,
There are many things I'll understand,
But I'll never get your plight,
And in this distant far off land,
Where I begin again,
I'll take your hand to comfort you,
And shelter from the rain.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Yes I will always be your friend,
No doubt until the bitter end,
But when you realise what you've lost,
I hope you know the price it cost,
I was there when you needed me,
But you weren't there when I needed you,
And again, again,
I'll pick up those pieces,
Until my brain and heart it ceases,
To recognise just where you stand,
And take the endless pain at hand,
And bares the burden forever fought,
Until this lesson has been taught.
No doubt until the bitter end,
But when you realise what you've lost,
I hope you know the price it cost,
I was there when you needed me,
But you weren't there when I needed you,
And again, again,
I'll pick up those pieces,
Until my brain and heart it ceases,
To recognise just where you stand,
And take the endless pain at hand,
And bares the burden forever fought,
Until this lesson has been taught.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Odd
Maybe I'm in a bad mood, although I don't think I am, but I keep getting an urge to punch certain people in the face.
It's odd. I'm sure it'll pass.
It's odd. I'm sure it'll pass.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Sentience as life
Another of my "Automata blogs"
--------------------
Whilst I find Descartes thoroughly interesting I find his description of humans as nothing more than biological machines disheartening. I don't necessarily believe in any sort of external soul but I do believe that life is much more than biological mechanisms that happen to work in tandem. I believe that sentience is the key to whether or not a being is alive, self-awareness, instinct; these things are present in animals but not in machines. A machine is nothing more than a series of pre-coded algorithms and binary codes. Even the most advanced machines currently built cannot come close to life, they can only mimic. Whilst it could be argued that this is the mimetic faculty at work I do not believe this is so. The mimetic faculty is learning and I don't believe that machine 'learn', they can only be reprogrammed. The fact that "To simulate a virtual human brain using existing technology would require a supercomputer the size of the Pentagon" (source BBC Focus magazine, issue 209, November 2009, p. 122) would suggest that mechanicals are not even close to replicating the complexity of nature. I am fully aware that Descartes was writing at a time when life was much less well understood but I still find his dismissive attitude towards life as nothing more than mechanical action as short sighted; perhaps he harboured a secret messiah complex.
Having said this, however, I do believe that, as technology advances, we could well see virtual brains developed that are sentient and are free thinking. In this months BBC Focus magazine (the source for my previous quote, which I will bring to this weeks seminar) there is an article dedicated to a group of scientists in Switzerland who are attempting to build a virtual brain inside a supercomputer. Software that will be able to "think, remember and even get angry" (p. 27); the key point here is not mimic the physical affects of an emotional response, but to actually have that emotional response. The reason for this is that the current research being done is reverse engineered from real, living mammal brains. Starting with rats and working their way up to humans. One of the scientists involved in the study is so optimistic that he believes a fully functioning 'human brain' is only 10 years away. The biggest difference between what the Swiss scientists are attempting and what has been done before is most easily explained here:
"Synaptic plasticity is the basis for learning and memory, a feature that Blue Brain [the name of the Swiss team's software] replicates to set it apart from most approaches to mimicking the mind. Both artificial intelligence and computational neuroscience often try to imitate the brain's abilities, such as playing chess, with some success. So while IBM's Deep Blue chess computer managed to beat grandmaster Garry Kasparov in 1997, it wouldn't be able to automatically learn a new board game. A biologically accurate virtual brain could." (p. 30)
This highlights the remarkable difference with what has been tried before and what these scientists are attempting now. Unlike previous attempts they aren't just programming a computer they are infact building a synthetic brain. If they are successful one thing I wonder is whether or not their synthetic brains could be shrunk down to the same size of human brain tissue and then replace damaged or destroyed brain tissue in humans. Perhaps this would be a better use of resources than attempting to create true artificial intelligence.
I do not necessarily disagree with this line of research but I do feel that it is the wrong way to go. The fascination of creating life, actual tangible life, is intriguing and I do not fear what a sentient robot might do (a la Skynet in the Terminator franchise); but I do fear how morality may come to play with this. I believe that machines, non-sentient, should be servants; built by man to make man's life easier. If a sentient life is created then we will lose every opportunity that mechanicals give us to move towards a more truly free society. A society free from wage slavery and corporate oppression, a society free from non-equality, a society where people can live and not worry about working a dead end job just to keep the wolves from the door. This is the opportunity that non-sentient automata offer us as a species. I believe that if we are able to create a sentient life form entirely from our own technology then I believe they are the same as us; for me awareness is life and if an autonomous robot is self aware then it should be afforded the same rights as other life, and not used as slave labour. For me the only difference, that would exist, is that whilst we are a Carbon based life form they would be Silicon based.
Monday, 26 October 2009
First feature film I'm in
So tomorrow I go and see my first feature film for the first time. I am both nervous and exited. I know I will spend the entire time thinking I'm shit but hopefully the 4 friends I have going with me will think otherwise... we shall see.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Sick
http://www.nydailynews.com/lifestyle/fashion/2009/10/14/2009-10-14_model_fired_for_being_too_fat.html
A collection of odd lines I've jotted down in the last month, assembled in a vague manner
The fresh smell of vomit permeates the air,
Reminding me of the hate and despair,
Lost and rendered with feelings of hope,
Dashed on fair Whitby's rocky cliffs,
The lonely wanderer continues the journey,
Searching ever onward for his land of plenty,
The bus driver sits behind bullet proof glass,
As the stuttering behemoth unveils the past,
The wayfarer,
Forgetting his place,
Turns ashamed as he abandons his grace,
Rattling down these old cobbled streets,
The paving as cracked as his weathered skin,
Unable to catch the gaze,
Of those that he meets,
Preachers line those splintered paths,
Proclaiming the end of the world,
He laughs,
For the world around him will never end,
He is the eternal, immortal, death's only friend,
The journey continues at night,
Hollowed faces,
Skin stretched on bone,
Aboard the midnight train,
That brings us all home,
Outside of the windows,
Nothing but black,
Stretching beyond,
The sight that we lack,
Bleary-eyed, the drifters fellow nomads,
Restlessly nod their heads,
To the click clack rhythm of steel on steel,
Praying for a journey's end,
But still the train goes on,
The wheels of this nation will never slow down.
A vagabond,
Alone,
If I'd have died tonight,
I'd have never been able to tell you,
I love you.
Reminding me of the hate and despair,
Lost and rendered with feelings of hope,
Dashed on fair Whitby's rocky cliffs,
The lonely wanderer continues the journey,
Searching ever onward for his land of plenty,
The bus driver sits behind bullet proof glass,
As the stuttering behemoth unveils the past,
The wayfarer,
Forgetting his place,
Turns ashamed as he abandons his grace,
Rattling down these old cobbled streets,
The paving as cracked as his weathered skin,
Unable to catch the gaze,
Of those that he meets,
Preachers line those splintered paths,
Proclaiming the end of the world,
He laughs,
For the world around him will never end,
He is the eternal, immortal, death's only friend,
The journey continues at night,
Hollowed faces,
Skin stretched on bone,
Aboard the midnight train,
That brings us all home,
Outside of the windows,
Nothing but black,
Stretching beyond,
The sight that we lack,
Bleary-eyed, the drifters fellow nomads,
Restlessly nod their heads,
To the click clack rhythm of steel on steel,
Praying for a journey's end,
But still the train goes on,
The wheels of this nation will never slow down.
A vagabond,
Alone,
If I'd have died tonight,
I'd have never been able to tell you,
I love you.
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Mass Extinction Events
In this month's focus magazine ( http://www.bbcfocusmagazine.com/ ) there is an article on endangered species and how by the end of the century more than 50% of all species around today could be gone by the end of the century. Within the article it lists the biggest five extinction events in the Earth's history and the remarkable thing is that the K-T event ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cretaceous%E2%80%93Tertiary_extinction_event ), which is probably the most famous mass extinction, didn't actually kill off as much of life as you might think. It wiped out the dinosaurs (with the exception of birds) but compared to the other mass extinction events it was actually relatively tame.
The banner in the article states the following:
--------------------------
ORDOVICIAN-SILURIAN
-440 Million Years Ago-
The second largest extinction. Up to 85% of species vanish probably due to global cooling.
LATE DEVONIAN
-364 Million Years Ago-
20% of all species, mostly marine based, die out in a massive environmental shift. The root cause is not known.
PERMIAN-TRIASSIC
-251 Million Years Ago-
The biggest extinction event in history - the 'Great Dying'. A combination of natural disasters kills off 96% of marine species and 70% of land species.
TRIASSIC-JURASSIC
-199-214 Million Years Ago-
Massive volcanic eruptions are the prime suspect in the demise of 23% of all species. It vacated ecological niches to be exploited by dinosaurs.
CRETACEOUS-TERTIARY (K-T)
-65 Million Years Ago-
A meteor collides with Earth. The effects of the impact probably killed off 16% of marine species and 18% of land animals - including the dinosaurs.
--------------------------
Now if the scientists are correct then this century will see the 3rd largest extinction level event in the Earth's history; and it is primarily humankind's fault. Humans ARE an extinction level event! Makes you think doesn't it?
The banner in the article states the following:
--------------------------
ORDOVICIAN-SILURIAN
-440 Million Years Ago-
The second largest extinction. Up to 85% of species vanish probably due to global cooling.
LATE DEVONIAN
-364 Million Years Ago-
20% of all species, mostly marine based, die out in a massive environmental shift. The root cause is not known.
PERMIAN-TRIASSIC
-251 Million Years Ago-
The biggest extinction event in history - the 'Great Dying'. A combination of natural disasters kills off 96% of marine species and 70% of land species.
TRIASSIC-JURASSIC
-199-214 Million Years Ago-
Massive volcanic eruptions are the prime suspect in the demise of 23% of all species. It vacated ecological niches to be exploited by dinosaurs.
CRETACEOUS-TERTIARY (K-T)
-65 Million Years Ago-
A meteor collides with Earth. The effects of the impact probably killed off 16% of marine species and 18% of land animals - including the dinosaurs.
--------------------------
Now if the scientists are correct then this century will see the 3rd largest extinction level event in the Earth's history; and it is primarily humankind's fault. Humans ARE an extinction level event! Makes you think doesn't it?
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
My lungs hate me
I am coughing like a mother fucker, and I think I can taste blood. This could be the start of a beautiful illness :(
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
My blog this week for one of my course modules
The subject I found most intriguing during last weeks seminar was the changing relationship between the written word and iconographic images from the reformation to the present day.
For me personally the written word, and language as a whole, carry much more weight and substance than images and icons. Firstly images are far too ambiguous. As was mentioned last week the swastika once (and to many people still does) represented peace . For many westerners nowadays though it represents fear, hatred, pain, suffering. To the Jewish population it represents the culmination of thousands of years of oppression andprejudice. The words, meanwhile are much more succinct and specific: Nazism; Peace... there is no ambiguity there. The one manner in which images may succeed better than words are in crossing cultures where language causes difficulties; but even in this problems arise. Different hand gestures mean different things in different cultures. To an American the index and middle fingers extended outwards into a V shape will always mean peace. To a British person however having the fingers facing outwards means f**k off and a dutch friend of mine tells me that holding them sideways (in a greater or less than shape <>) with the fingers facing outwards means c**t. They may only be minor issues but they are significant in dealing with people of different cultural backgrounds.
However despite this I cannot deny that we live in an incredibly image based culture now. Images are piped into our lives on biblical proportions: in magazines; television; billboards; the internet these images are constant and damaging. Unlike words images can work on a more subliminal level, permeating our subconscious before out conscious and causing us to be drawn towards certain things over others without even being aware of it. Perhaps the most damaging subliminal image that is thrust upon us is in the representation of the human body; primarily (but by no means exclusively) that of womyn.
Unilever began running, in 2004, the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty and whilst I do feel the campaign was poorly executed, not to mention its purpose being entirely to sell more products, they did produce an eye opening advert which shows the extent to which images are created for our consumption.
One of my favourite bands also regularly addresses the issue of the unfair representation of beauty in western cultures; most sigificantly in their 2006 song (and music video) This is the End (for you my friend):
Anti-Flag - This Is The End (For You My Friend) (Official Music - Watch more funny videos here
Inside the album sleeve there is also a short piece by Jean Kilbourne, a noted social theorist who specialises in the representation of womyn by the media:
"Advertising is an over $250 billion a year industry. We are exposed to over 3000 ads a day and will spend two years of our lives watching television commercials. Yet, remarkably, most of us believe we are not influenced by advertising. Ads sell a great deal more than products. They sell values, images, and concepts of success and worth, love, and sexuality, popularity and normalcy. They tell us who we should be ... Sometimes they sell addictions."
"Hollywood and the fashion, cosmetics and diet industries work hard to make each of us believe that our bodies are unacceptable and need constant improvement. Print ads and television commercials reduce us to body parts -lips, legs, breasts- airbrushed and touched up to meet impossible standards. TV shows tell women and teenage girls that cosmetic surgery is good for self-esteem. Is it any wonder that more than 80% of fourth grade girls have been on some sort of fad diet"
Friday, 16 October 2009
Holy Shit!
For sometimes many of us have wondered who is Jack Shit? We find ourselves at a loss when someone says, You don't know Jack Shit? Thanks to my efforts you can now respond in an intellectual way. Jack shit is the only son of Argh Shit who married Oh Shit, the owners of Knee Deep N Shit Inc. In turn Jack Shit Married Noe Shit. The couple had 6 children, Holy Shit, Giva Shit, Fulla Shit, Bull Shit, and the twins Deep Shit and Dip Shit. Deep Shit married Dumb Shit, a high school dropout. After 15 years, Jack and Noe Shit got divorced and she married Ted Sherlock and became Noe Shit Sherlock. Meanwhile, Dip Shit married Lota Shit and had a rather nervous child named Chicken Shit. Fulla Shit and Giva Shit married the Happens brothers n had a double wedding. The newspaper invited everyone to the Shit-Happens wedding. Bull Shit traveled the world and returned home with an italian bride, Pisa Shit. Easy innit eh?
Monday, 12 October 2009
NASA Fail!
I'm not sure what I was doing on the Daily Mail's website but this made me lol.
It wasn't a bomb though, it was a projectile... the Daily Mail cannot get anything right.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1218768/Revealed-The-flash-saw-Nasas-49million-bomb-crashed-Moon-quest-discover-water.html
It wasn't a bomb though, it was a projectile... the Daily Mail cannot get anything right.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1218768/Revealed-The-flash-saw-Nasas-49million-bomb-crashed-Moon-quest-discover-water.html
Sunday, 11 October 2009
30 GOP Senators Vote to Defend Gang Rape
The headline is a little sensationalist but it is effectively correct. I have nothing really to say on this... except that I am sickened. Read it, watch the video, be disgusted.
http://www.alternet.org/blogs/healthwellness/143164/30_gop_senators_vote_to_defend_gang_rape/
And people ask me why I don't think that politicians are in touch with the real world.
http://www.alternet.org/blogs/healthwellness/143164/30_gop_senators_vote_to_defend_gang_rape/
And people ask me why I don't think that politicians are in touch with the real world.
Friday, 9 October 2009
The criminality of being right.
An accusation I have often had levied at myself is "you always have to be right haven't you?"; and it has always struck me as odd. I often wonder if they have a point, am I just too pig ignorant to ever possibly admit that I am wrong? But then I think about the occasions when this is said and it usually comes at the end of a heated debate, one in which I have stood my ground firmly and have not been proven to be wrong; I have not nessasarily proven myself to be correct but the ad hominem attack always occurs when the 'opposition' has no further logical debate to bring to the table.
Now contrary to popular belief I can admit when I am wrong and, when I am convinced by the other viewpoint, I often revel in it. No one person can hold all of the answers and quite frankly, even if I did, I wouldn't want that responsibility. But the fact remains that seldom does someone ever break my viewpoint, mostly because the standard of debate these days is relatively shallow and self absorbed. The occasions, most recently, when I have been forced to concede defeat have almost all occurred on TPU (mostly before its move to the "official" Anti-Flag forums but while it was an unofficial one which probably had more people on it who weren't A-F fans than were) and I positively relish it. The debate is exhilarating, well thought out and logical; I find myself no longer being forced to play devil's advocate just to spark something and I feel challenged by it. I love it. I have questioned my own thought processes and ideas and it makes me happy to do so. If anything I have been driven even more toward the left than ever before; I now consider calling me a Liberal almost as insulting as calling me a Conservative.
However even when the standard of debate is good there are two key reasons why I don't often admit defeat:
First of all I do not like confrontation. I often find it unnecessary and superficial. Confrontation tends to only highlight our differences as people and very little progress ever comes from it. As a result of this I will often not engage in a debate unless I am already confident of my position and feel that it needs to be said. I will only debate when it is something worthwhile.
Secondly, and most importantly, I am extremely well read. Please forgive my arrogance on this but reading is something that I relish, and the vast majority of my reading is political texts. I don't just read texts from a leftist standpoint either, I quite happily read conservative texts even if I do sometimes feel IQ points dropping and my brain melting as I do so (much the same affect as the Daily Mail has on me really). The simple fact is I read. I read books (my favourite), websites, newspapers, magazines, anything really and I like to keep myself informed. Science, politics, religion, anything and everything. I realised quite recently that, aside from play texts, I had read no fiction since coming to university (hence my recent re-obsession with Harry Potter, something simple to ease myself back into it).
But it is in this second point which is most vibrant for me. We seem to be developing a severe anti-intellectual movement in this country which I think we have inherited from our American neighbours over the pond. Now I'm not saying I am particularly intellectual. I like to think I'm smart, well read, and thoughtful though whether or not I am an 'intellectual' I'm not sure. But the anti-intellectual thing is odd. With the exception of trains you don't really see people reading much these days, everyone is always too busy rushing about urgently flitting from shop to shop for the latest commodity with which to bedeck their already bursting homes full of stuff they don't need.
I think Bill Hicks put it best
Carlin says something good about "stuff" as well
Now contrary to popular belief I can admit when I am wrong and, when I am convinced by the other viewpoint, I often revel in it. No one person can hold all of the answers and quite frankly, even if I did, I wouldn't want that responsibility. But the fact remains that seldom does someone ever break my viewpoint, mostly because the standard of debate these days is relatively shallow and self absorbed. The occasions, most recently, when I have been forced to concede defeat have almost all occurred on TPU (mostly before its move to the "official" Anti-Flag forums but while it was an unofficial one which probably had more people on it who weren't A-F fans than were) and I positively relish it. The debate is exhilarating, well thought out and logical; I find myself no longer being forced to play devil's advocate just to spark something and I feel challenged by it. I love it. I have questioned my own thought processes and ideas and it makes me happy to do so. If anything I have been driven even more toward the left than ever before; I now consider calling me a Liberal almost as insulting as calling me a Conservative.
However even when the standard of debate is good there are two key reasons why I don't often admit defeat:
First of all I do not like confrontation. I often find it unnecessary and superficial. Confrontation tends to only highlight our differences as people and very little progress ever comes from it. As a result of this I will often not engage in a debate unless I am already confident of my position and feel that it needs to be said. I will only debate when it is something worthwhile.
Secondly, and most importantly, I am extremely well read. Please forgive my arrogance on this but reading is something that I relish, and the vast majority of my reading is political texts. I don't just read texts from a leftist standpoint either, I quite happily read conservative texts even if I do sometimes feel IQ points dropping and my brain melting as I do so (much the same affect as the Daily Mail has on me really). The simple fact is I read. I read books (my favourite), websites, newspapers, magazines, anything really and I like to keep myself informed. Science, politics, religion, anything and everything. I realised quite recently that, aside from play texts, I had read no fiction since coming to university (hence my recent re-obsession with Harry Potter, something simple to ease myself back into it).
But it is in this second point which is most vibrant for me. We seem to be developing a severe anti-intellectual movement in this country which I think we have inherited from our American neighbours over the pond. Now I'm not saying I am particularly intellectual. I like to think I'm smart, well read, and thoughtful though whether or not I am an 'intellectual' I'm not sure. But the anti-intellectual thing is odd. With the exception of trains you don't really see people reading much these days, everyone is always too busy rushing about urgently flitting from shop to shop for the latest commodity with which to bedeck their already bursting homes full of stuff they don't need.
I think Bill Hicks put it best
Carlin says something good about "stuff" as well
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Hokay
So staying up until 3.10am, when you have to be up at 7am, reading the Harry Potter Wiki sites and the Deathly Hallows (slowly, I'm enjoying it less than last time I read it) probably wasn't the best idea... so I'm a geek; shoot me.
And it has just reminded me that Rowling killed of Tonks in tDH... Lupin I could deal with, hell I think I could possibly even forgive her for finishing Sirius; but Tonks??!? Dude she was awesome.
That being said nothing quite compares to killing of Hedwig, that was just low.
Rowling and Russell T Davies should form a little club of their own shouldn't they.
God I suck. DW I will return to moaning about politics and posting random crap the internet throws up shortly... if these 9am Wednesday starts don't kill me first. It's a good thing Automata is an ace module and Kara is an amazingly nice person or else I might have gone mad already (and it's only week 2).
Peace and Love Boys and Girls, Peace and Love.
P.S. - GTFO of my gene pool is now my favourite insult... take that as you like.
And it has just reminded me that Rowling killed of Tonks in tDH... Lupin I could deal with, hell I think I could possibly even forgive her for finishing Sirius; but Tonks??!? Dude she was awesome.
That being said nothing quite compares to killing of Hedwig, that was just low.
Rowling and Russell T Davies should form a little club of their own shouldn't they.
God I suck. DW I will return to moaning about politics and posting random crap the internet throws up shortly... if these 9am Wednesday starts don't kill me first. It's a good thing Automata is an ace module and Kara is an amazingly nice person or else I might have gone mad already (and it's only week 2).
Peace and Love Boys and Girls, Peace and Love.
P.S. - GTFO of my gene pool is now my favourite insult... take that as you like.
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Hmmm
A day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy family was asked by his father, `Well my son, what would you like for your birthday?'The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new computer and similar things. However, his son had had a new computer only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have a pink ping pong ball.'The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is a pink ping pong ball that you want, a pink ping pong ball you shall have.'And so, the next day, the son was given as his bithday present a pink ping pong ball.The boy took the ball to his room and the next morning the pink ping pong ball was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong ball, however, was never seen again.The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.Father,' replied the son,I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a tenpack of pink ping pong balls that you want, a tenpack of pink ping pong balls you shall have.'And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.The boy took the tenpack of balls to his room and the next morning, not a single ball remained, merely the empty husk of the tenpack. The father wondered where ten pink ping pong balls might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong balls, however, were never seen again.The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.Father,' said the son to this,I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a carton of pink ping pong balls.'The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A carton of pink ping pong balls?'`A carton of pink ping pong balls,' the boy confirmed.I can't understand your fascination with pink ping pong balls,' said the father,but if it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you want, it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you shall have.'And so, the next day, the boy was given as his birthday present a carton of pink ping pong balls.The boy was delighted and took the carton to his room. The next day, miraculously (as if by magic, even) the pink ping pong balls had all disappeared.Dear son,' said the father,I must ask now, what do you do with all those pink ping pong balls?'The son, however, was reluctant to tell him. `Please humour me, dear father.'The carton of pink ping pong balls, however, was never seen again.The next year, it was clear that the son would get a car, but the father felt that, perhaps, his son also had some other wish apart from the obvious. So, one day before the son's 18th birthday, the father asked him whether he had a special wish for his birthday.Dearest father,' the son started,I have everything a young man could possibly want, but there is one craving in me. I would, more than anything, want a warehouse full of pink ping pong balls.'One of these years, his father thought, I should get to the bottom of this. However, he decided to humour his son's wish. At least he had been wise enough to buy shares in a pink ping pong ball factory.The next day, the son was given the address of a warehouse where all his new pink ping pong balls were stored. The son was delighted and decided to spend the next night in the warehouse rather than at home.The following morning, the son stepped out of the warehouse, but it seemed to be empty otherwise. The father had a closer look and indeed, apart from empty cardboard boxes, nothing was left inside the warehouse. No pink ping pong balls were left.The following year, one day before the son's 19th birthday, the father braced himself for another warehouse of pink ping pong balls. He asked his son what his deepest desire was and he had not been entirely wrong.`Father, you have made me very happy these last years and this year I ask of you a shipload of pink ping pong balls if at all possible.'It was possible, if only because the father had by now bought each and every factory of pink ping pong balls in the country.The next day, the father took his son to the harbour and showed him a huge tanker and told his son that there were millions, billions, trillions of pink ping pong balls in there.Father,' the son said,You've made me very happy yet again.'That night, the son spent on board the tanker.The next morning, not a single of the pink ping pong balls could be found, but the son was happy.A few days before his 20th birthday, however, the son had a terrible road accident and was taken to the hospital.His father visited the young man in hospital. `My dear son! Can I bring you anything to make you feel better?'Weakly, the son sat up in bed. `Father, dearest father, grant me this wish; just one tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'The father held his son's hand tightly. `Whatever you wish my son, but I have to give you one condition. Even if it may be embarrassing, I must know what you did with all those pink ping pong balls.'`Very well, father, but please indulge me first. I will tell you whatever you wish to know after you have given me the ten pink ping pong balls.'The father thought that was fair enough and the next day brought his son the ten asked for pink ping pong balls. The son smiled weakly but seemed too weak to talk.`Son, I leave these pink ping pong balls with you and shall come back tomorrow to ask of you what you have done with all those pink ping pong balls.'The son nodded weakly.The next day, less than surprisingly, no pink ping pong balls could be found in the son's hospital room.`Now, my dearest son, apple of my eye, treasure of my life, please tell me what you did with all those pink ping pong balls,' the father requested.The son nodded and the father gripped his hand tighter.`I-' the son started and sat up a bit, swallowing with a dry mouth.`I- I-'Then he died.
Thursday, 10 September 2009
I've just been informed
That the guy referred to in my last post is, how can I put this, extracting the urine.
Fucking hell.
This nutjob is trying to get people to ban divorce. He was behind Prop 8 as well. Makes me feel sick.
http://www.cockeyed.com/citizen/divorce/divorce.php
The guy contradicts himself as well. He says this: "I don't want the government teaching my child is "cool" or "legally permisable." That's a conversation that should happen in the family. It's the parents' role to teach the kids about reality -- not the state's." and yet he is attempting to make it law to say that divorce is wrong. This guy is ridiculous.
http://www.cockeyed.com/citizen/divorce/divorce.php
The guy contradicts himself as well. He says this: "I don't want the government teaching my child is "cool" or "legally permisable." That's a conversation that should happen in the family. It's the parents' role to teach the kids about reality -- not the state's." and yet he is attempting to make it law to say that divorce is wrong. This guy is ridiculous.
Monday, 7 September 2009
My best friend
Has, at this moment in time, 2,916 followers on twitter (3rd/5 in the band)... and I'm not one of them. Weird.
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
lolz
Today, I was playing my old GameBoy Color out in the lobby. A girl came up and asked what I was up to, and when she saw that I was playing Pokemon Blue, she dashed out. A few minutes later, she came back, carrying her GameBoy Color, Pokemon Red and link cables. Guess who I asked out? MLIA
http://mylifeisaverage.com/
http://mylifeisaverage.com/
match.com
Has too many women,
Has too many men,
Delete as applicable... that's the adverts.
*sighs*
Why does life move slower than time? Seriously? Time is going quicker but the same old plodding along bullshit day to day fuck all rythym stays at the same shit pace.
And yet people seem to be happy with that :(
Has too many men,
Delete as applicable... that's the adverts.
*sighs*
Why does life move slower than time? Seriously? Time is going quicker but the same old plodding along bullshit day to day fuck all rythym stays at the same shit pace.
And yet people seem to be happy with that :(
Writer's Block
So I can't write anything literary at the moment. No lyrics, poems, even short stories... nothink.
At least my bass playing is improving faster than I expected and I'm writing little note sequences, rhythms and general oddness every day. My Six String playing appears to have improved as well even though I've barely touched one in the 2/3 months since I got my bass.
At least my bass playing is improving faster than I expected and I'm writing little note sequences, rhythms and general oddness every day. My Six String playing appears to have improved as well even though I've barely touched one in the 2/3 months since I got my bass.
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Bash Back
http://bashbacknews.wordpress.com/hate-mail/
I can only laugh at the ignorance of the people who send hate mail to Bash Back.
Keep Fighting.
x
Friday, 21 August 2009
I
Am sick to death of being the guy my friends take advantage of. I am sick of being the guy who sorts everything out because I realise it won't get done otherwise (whilst everyone else sits around saying "why bother, it'll get done"). I am sick of always putting others before myself. I am sick of being a nice person. From now on I want to be a cunt. I want to be like all the mother fuckers out there who shit on everyone else but still enjoy themselves... well actually I don't... because I don't like taking advantage of others. However I am tired of always being on the sidelines, sorting out other people's shit, being the shoulder to cry on, being the kind word, being the voice of reason. Sometimes I need a shoulder to cry on, sometimes I need someone to help me with my shit, sometimes I need someone else to be the voice of reason. Yes this is a self pitying blog but fuck you I'm in a self pitying mood, for once in my life I am putting me first.
I AM DONE!
Monday, 10 August 2009
Friday, 7 August 2009
So.....
The new football season starts tomorrow (how do you like the change of font for the occasion?) and I have to say... I'm actually not that bothered.
It's been a fucking shit decade so far for County fans in general. On the morning of January 1st 2000 we were sat in the Playoff places of Division 1 (or "the Championship as it's now known), undefeated at home (or away) so far that season and were due to play Crystal Palace at home (or away, whichever one it was we were undefeated in). Since then we have just spiraled.
A succession of managers (Kilner (Fins), Palmer (still makes me shiver), McIlroy (midgets), Turner (crap)) saw the club finish in a lower position each year for 6 seasons; Well actually that trend had started after the 97/98 season but that's not the point. Boxing day 2005 saw County reach their lowest point; stuck to the bottom of the Football League, seemingly without a prayer, and about to be royally humped 6-0 by Macclesfield (our 2nd 6-0 defeat that season and against a club we had never played in a League match before). The supporters trust (who had taken over the club less than 5 months earlier) moved quickly to remove Turner and (in what my brother described as a sign of desperation) appointed a fan favourite former player Jim Gannon as interim manager.
The appointment of Jimbo (whose contract was extended 'till the end of the season and then made permanent) coincided with a huge upturn in fortunes for the Cheshire club and, whilst only achieving it on the last day, they managed to pull off an incredible feat and survived with a 2 point gap over relegated Oxford (who were to be replaced by Accrington, the club whose original closure led to Oxford being granted a Football League place in the first instance). Despite a great deal of pessimism (I seem to remember discomfort at the lack of "experienced" signings and a dependence on Youth/lack of strength in depth being the biggest bugbears of fans on the infamous Yellowboard) Gannon continued to work wonders and the 06/07 season proved to be the first improved season in 9 years for the Hatters who, on the way to a finish just one place outside the playoffs on goal difference, manage to break a Football League record and smash several club records; continuing the clubs tradition of doing well in seasons ending in 7. But 06/07 was nothing compared to what happened next.
County's 2007/08 season started brightly but stuttered from the end of August until the end of December with that word "inconsistency" being the key. However with the sale of top scorer Anthony Elding in the January window Gannon breathed new life into his squad and, with a revitalised Liam Dickinson and a versatile 4-5-1/4-3-3/4-1-2-2-1 (whatever) formation, the Hatters shot up to the table eventually finishing 4th just behind Hereford and top of the Playoff places.
After an eventful semi final clash with Wycombe County made it back to Wembley for a tie against local rivals Rochdale. That damned Wembley that had broken County hearts 4 times some 15 years earlier. But this was a new Wembley and, more importantly, a new County; run by its fans, a stable ship and with a club hero leading the players onto the hallowed turf of our national stadium. It was a typical British day, raining, but County shone and this time it was the opposition whose hearts would be broken as the Cheshire club pushed aside their neighbours to the North to win 3-2 (despite an early scare). There really is nothing quite like seeing your clubs players walk up to the Royal box and see them lift a trophy; especially in an anniversary season, Stockport County's 125th year as a football club. Although I felt a great deal of sympathy for the travelling 'Dale supporters who haven't seen their club promoted for longer than any other professional team.
08/09 brought yet more optimism. Yes Liam Dickinson, one of the heroes of Wembley had been sold but Carl Baker (who had single handedly torn County apart the prior season) had signed from Morecambe, Owain Fon Williams (a promising young Goalkeeper) had joined from Cheshire rivals Crewe and Peter "Pistol Pete" Thomspon (an apparent goal machine) had arrived from Northern Ireland; all for fees and the Supporters Trust were reporting break even budget reports and even small profits. As Jim Gannon entered his third full season as Stockport County manager everything seemed to have fallen into place. But there was a terrible secret waiting to appear from beneath our feet.
Rumours began appearing over the summer that not all was as well as it seemed at Edgeley Park: where had the money come from to pay for these players; why had the Manor Farm training ground been allowed to reach a dreadful state of disrepair; why had we still not secured the buy back to Edgeley Park; was the "Ground for a Pound" (a scheme based on the work of an American self made Millionaire) money being used to pay wages; had the "rainy day fund" money been spent; and why on Earth was there a loan from a company called David Farms, amounting to £400,000, which gave the company control of the clubs bank account. Then, in January, it was made apparent that we owed the Taxman a large amount of money as well.
Quite what had gone on behind the scenes remains a mystery with many different stories and rumours corroborating and contradicting each other, but what is clear is that the club was in deep trouble and was selling off players left right and centre to try and deal with it. By the 30th of April 2009, when an apparent rescue package was being prepared, the club was forced into administration for the first time in its 126 year history; by the aforementioned David Farms.
What followed was a summer of misery: first Jim Gannon, Peter Ward and the majority of the club staff were made redundant; then yet more players left for peppercorn prices; then the apparent 'favourite' of the consortiums pulled out; then Jim Gannon took the Motherwell job ending any hope of his return to Stockport County as manager; then more players left. Eventually, however, it was announced that a saviour had arrived and the club would be leaving Administation following the agreement of a CVA, Gary Ablett was announced as the new man to take the club forward and we were told no more players would be leaving. It seemed we were out of the woods.
Unfortunately this is Stockport County and things are not so clean cut. It is apparent that at least one of the men who is allegedly responsible for the mess of the last few years (and the self confessed lies that leaked from the club's core) has been used as a consultant to the new men in charge and then today (o.k. it's yesterday now) it was confirmed that the club has still not left administration, even though the alloted time for objections to the CVA to be logged has expired. On top of this no new signings have been made (except for David Poole, Adam Griffin and Gianluca Havern returning, three players who were deemed not good enough to begin with and Paul Gerrard, even though goalkeeper was one of our stronger positions and his primary job is as goalkeeper coach) and it seems as though more players will leave before the consortium complete their takeover; which is odd.
So as the new season begins we have an inexperienced manager with a paper thin squad of youngsters and no idea how many more will leave before the take over is "confirmed" and we officially leave Administration.
It's been a pretty shit decade so far.
Thursday, 6 August 2009
What is going on?
Someone on TPU posted a link to this site http://www.pro-thinspo.com/Bones.html
It is fucking horrible, how can this be encouraged? Not only is it disgustingly unhealthy but it isn't even attractive.
It isn't even a case any more of an unrealistic vision of "beauty" being pumped out; but an viciously unhealthy one.
As someone put: "Apparently the Third-world poverty look is in these days."
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
Friday, 31 July 2009
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Crazy Dream
So I have just woken up from my afternoon nap (another night of not sleeping is really not a good idea) and felt like sharing just the last little bit of my dream (it's all I can remember and it's a bit weird.
I arrived in Selly Oak (the place I live) off a train to see a mass of police all around. I asked one (who was talking into his radio very quickly) what had happened and he said there had been two "device" detonations in houses on each side of the main road but it was okay because no-one had been harmed and a suspect was in custody.
At this moment an air raid siren started and we both looked at each other, one of us said "uh-oh" (can't remember if that was him or me) and we just ran, in no particular direction. I then looked up at the sky to see a long cylindrical tube headed towards the ground. Others around me noticed it and then, just cheered. It was a truly surreal moment for me.
A white flash and my whole body shook, then I was on the ground. There was a crack across my vision like broken glass and then words appeared: Front part of skull = Cracked; Rear part of skull = shattered; Death = inevitable. The world then sort of fizzed away and two options appeared: Standard funeral; State funeral. I can't remember which I chose.
Then I woke up. A little dumfounded as to the trick my subconscious had played on me. Was this some sort of grisly premonition of my own, and many others, demise (it was particularly vivid). Perhaps my subconscious is more afraid of "Terrorism" or Nuclear Holocaust than my conscious mind. Maybe it is some Freudian head fuck where the nuclear weapon was my mother and I secretly want to fuck everything in sight..... or maybe I just need to stop playing Command and Conquer.
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Too fat, or too thin,
Living's now a sin,
Insecurity's obligatory,
When the signs all point to this,
A girl of 15 stands at the mirror,
All she dreams of is to be thinner,
So her hand moves now to the back of her throat,
And all at once room starts to spin,
The image she saw of the "perfect" figure,
Was a criminal concoction produced in a lab,
Too fat, or too thin,
Living's now a sin,
Insecurity's obligatory,
When the signs all point to this,
A boy of 15 stands at the mirror,
And all he sees is his skin could be clearer,
So he grabs at the soap and he scrubs and he scrubs,
Till the skin falls off and the bone is smooth,
The image he saw of the "perfect" figure,
Was a criminal concoction produced in a lab,
With the things that are shown,
On screen in the magazine,
Every day is another nightmare,
Nobody should,
Feel the way that they do,
But the way that we do
Is a pain that we share.
Obesity a buzz word thrown around at will,
All geared up to sell you this pill,
But next time you see,
A 6 stone model on the page 3,
Be aware of the advert,
Selling you that big mac.
Too fat, or too thin,
Living's now a sin,
Insecurity's obligatory,
When the signs all point to this,
The image you saw of the "perfect" figure,
Was a criminal concoction produced in a lab.
Thursday, 9 July 2009
To the polticians
Don't you see what you have done,
With all your theft and lies?
A man named Griffin he has won,
A seat in Europe, big surprise?
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
I love
http://textsfromlastnight.com/ ... brilliant
"(817): After 4 hours of foreplay he passed out and almost immediately peed in my bed. Naked. Like a fountain. Then tried to deny it in the morning by saying he just sweats a lot."
"(206): Sometimes I get depressed that my son is too young to understand how hot his babysitter is."
"(907): I think condoms have that nasty latex smell to remind you in the morning of how gross you are."
"(423): Apparently I masturbate in my sleep now."
"(617): i would really appreciate it if you would stop texting my girlfriend.
(508): i would really appreciate it if you would stop cock blocking me."
(508): i would really appreciate it if you would stop cock blocking me."
"(407): you definitely have a few illegitimate kids
(1-407): probs. Not too worried about it though. MOst girls are too embarrassed that they let me into their pants that they'll never admit its mine"
(1-407): probs. Not too worried about it though. MOst girls are too embarrassed that they let me into their pants that they'll never admit its mine"
Following on
Simply because I couldn't be arsed to edit my post below.
Here is a poem about Whitby Jet by John Dunne. It's also the source of the terms "as black as jet' or "jet black".
I'm proper excited now =)
A Jet Ring Sent
Thou art not as black, as my heart,
Nor half so brittle as her heart, thou art,
What wouldst thou say? Shall both our properties by thee be spoke,
Nothing more endless nothing sooner broke?
Marriage rings are not of this stuff,
Oh, why should aught less precious, or less tough
figure our loves? Except in thy name thou have bid to say,
I am cheap, and naught but fashion, fling me away.
Yet stay with me since thou art come,
Circle this fingers top, which didst her thumb.
Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me.
She that, Oh, broke her faith, would soon break thee.
Thou art not as black, as my heart,
Nor half so brittle as her heart, thou art,
What wouldst thou say? Shall both our properties by thee be spoke,
Nothing more endless nothing sooner broke?
Marriage rings are not of this stuff,
Oh, why should aught less precious, or less tough
figure our loves? Except in thy name thou have bid to say,
I am cheap, and naught but fashion, fling me away.
Yet stay with me since thou art come,
Circle this fingers top, which didst her thumb.
Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me.
She that, Oh, broke her faith, would soon break thee.
So Whitby it is
So, after a discussion with Matt, I have decided Whitby will definitely be the location of my getaway from life (it's cheaper than Ireland). Whitby was, together with nearby Scarborough, a very important village in my upbringing. It was not just the place of many happy childhood holidays but also, I assume, the birthplace of my love of literature; thanks to the Whitby Witches Trilogy by Robin Jarvis.
Probably more famous for the Deptford Mice ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Deptford_Mice ) Robin Jarvis' Whitby trilogy had a remarkable impact on me. Those books were the earliest I can remember enjoying reading and I even remember now that some of the "novels" I wrote in Primary school took a LOT of inspiration from his writing style. In particular the use of the exclamation "nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo", the pronunciation of which, if I remember correctly, caused many arguments between me and my brother; he was right, I was wrong.
Whitby is also the home of Dracula, which is why it is a goth haven, whitby jet (a beautiful natural stone, and the stunning Whitby Abbey (together with its famous 199 steps (I remember counting them as a kid)). It's a beautiful place and will be perfect for me to read, explore, write and reconnect with myself. I am gonna come back a new man, so you better not get in my way when I do.
So, hopefully depending on the hotel, next Tuesday I will be boarding the first of 4 trains and I 5 and a half hour journey up to the little seaside village. It's going to be immense.
Peace, Love, Unity.
XxxXxxX
Whitby Jet necklace: 
%204.jpg)
The Abbey:
A guide to the village: http://www.yorkshire-guide.co.uk/whitby.aspx
Monday, 6 July 2009
Panic break up... kind of
hmm. At least it made me finally listen to their second album. Which is quite good. I hear psychedelic rock in it... the proper psychedelic rock... not Pink Floyd (who I still quite like, but they weren't really psychedelic imo).
Sunday, 5 July 2009
"Whoops I think I just launched a Nuke. But it's okay, cause I'm a soccer mom and I love America, isn't America so great, birds and trees, apple pie, mmmmm, let's go hunt some endangered animals... FUCK THE ENVIRONMENT" - Disclaimer - Sarah Palin has never (as far as I'm aware) said this... but Carlsberg don't make world leaders.
Friday, 3 July 2009
Dinosaurs
So a quite bizarre thread on TPU (about Anti-Flag fan fiction (some of which was quite disturbing to be honest)) descended into to two separate paths. One which was an odd collection of "cyber"-ing and the other was random Dinosaur based pictures. Here are some of my favourites.
And to freak me out a little more someone posted a YouMeAtSix video... I keep forgetting how big they've gotten.
Monday, 29 June 2009
The Clash, The Beatles and a whole load of Rubik's Cubes
Enjoy: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x9ek87_top-10_creation
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
Not a poem, no, but a mantra, a life lesson.
Never be afraid to be different.
Never be afraid to show your individuality.
Never be afraid to reveal a part of you that deviates from the normal.
Never be afraid to stand out from the crowd.
Never forget what it meant to be a child.
Never forget where you came from.
Never forget to express yourself.
Never lose sight of where you aim to be.
Never lose sight of your dreams.
Never stop living the way you want to live.
Every one of us is different, everyone one of us is unique, in some way or another, embrace that and do not let go... of what makes you, you.
Monday, 8 June 2009
Thursday, 28 May 2009
I don't know where I'm going with this
3am and I'm not sleeping,
4am and I'm not dreaming
5am and the sun's coming up,
6am and I've had enough,
There's a bird at my window singing this song,
There's a cat outside that won't shut the fuck up,
The neighbour's dogs are at it again,
And soon their kids will join in the fun,
There's a hole in my head the size of a fist,
There's a hole in my chest the size of a heart,
Lungs are bleeding and nictotine's racing,
But we will just go on playing our part,
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,
3am and I'm not sleeping,
4am and I'm not dreaming
5am and the sun's coming up,
6am and I've had enough,
My bedroom's littered with bottles and cans,
Ash and smoke fill the air,
Seeping poison,
You just don't care,
Drenched in sweat surfing the net,
Two parts Caffiene, One part blood,
I will lick these wounds,
And our end will come soon,
3am and I'm not sleeping,
4am and I'm not dreaming
5am and the sun's coming up,
6am and I've had enough,
7am and my housemates are up... I don't know where I'm going with this
I see her, I need her, I'd keep her, I'll lose her.
Pop Culture Cliche
(I wonder if you can tell who this might be a stab at 
)
)You just don't get it,
You stupid fucking hypoctrite,
Alternative culture,
You need a suture,
With you what you see is what you get,
Little Britain quotes,
And stupid floppy hair,
You think you look so different but you all look the same,
You and your little cliques can go fuck yourselves,
Cause you're a pop culture cliche,
Always going this same way,
I see you every day,
I'll never forgive you, I'll never forget you,
MORON!
*spoken*
You're less alternative than my dad,
You're more mainstream than my mum,
Take your stupid meaningless lo cal fake rock,
And shove it up your jock,
Strap.
Bitch.
1 Pink Balloon
Honour her, keep her,
Honour him, keep him,
The issue's not the gender,
It's in their stupid heads,
When ignorance and bigotry,
Are overriding fact,
When lies breed more lies,
And they change their tack,
When they call you free,
Then throw their shit so far it sticks like a piece of gum,
And you're left feeling a lone and useless,
It's a scam, it's a falsity,
It's a facade, it's a fake,
There is no choice to make,
It's the way you were born,
They don't understand,
And they'll always be forlorn,
Brotherhood, sisterhood,
We stand together, they stand divided,
If they are right,
Then it feels good to be wrong.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)