TrippingOwl's Used Soul Emporium

Just briefly...

2011-11-29T01:50:26Z

Apropos of an earlier post on Lionel Shriver's writing, her opinion of the recently released film adaptation of her book We Need To Talk About Kevin can be found here. I had to put this here because it seems that Shriver can't even write an article about her own wildly successful film without turning it into a parallel nightmare universe fantasy.

Winning Streak

2011-04-26T00:11:03Z

One of my favourite pubs in London is The Phoenix in Cavendish Square. Most of you will get why that's very appropriate. I don't go there that often, just because time is limited and there are lots of places to go in London. Well, it's happened several times now (four, by my count) that I've coincidentally wandered into a comedy night there without really knowing that it was on. Mondays are apparently "Old Rope" nights, where comedians new and old go to try out their new material. Today there were brief performances by Shappi Khorsandi, Rich Hall, Robin Ince, Stephen Merchant, and Rufus Hound (and a few others, but these were the highlights... I feel a bit bad for relegating the others, but they were a bit dire). The first two were people I've liked for a long time, but never seen live. My socks were chuffed right off.

And for some reason I can't get it out of my head that my mother would really have liked Rich Hall. It's an odd feeling that I can't quite shake; he's just so on the money for her type of humour, so every time I see him I think of her...

Also I kept making up stand-up routines in my head when the others were bad. I think when the audience was getting really bored, they probably would have enjoyed the story of iguana girl.

Crossing paths

2011-04-23T23:15:28Z

I sat down on a Victoria line train today. For a while I just sat there, minding my own business, listening to music, planning dinner. Then I noticed the shirt of a guy sitting opposite me.

IF IN DOUBT, PULL IT OUT.

I couldn't help myself. I started to grin uncontrollably. Then he noticed that I'd noticed, and he gave a wide, slightly sheepish grin. Because I was so openly amused by the sheer rudeness of the t-shirt, he even got a little bit embarrassed, and put his arms up to cover the shirt. Halfway through the movement he realised what a futile gesture it was and stopped. I had to avert my gaze after that because I couldn't stop giggling - not just at the shirt anymore, but at his reaction and the whole scenario, in fact.

As much as this guy and his t-shirt amused me, the best thing for me is that now he's probably gone home and said, "There was this girl on the tube..."

Don't move a muscle, I've got an apple!

2011-03-22T13:17:30Z

Ok, so you're at a big meeting. There are large bottles of mineral water on the table. Good so far. But APPLES? Has anyone EVER eaten an apple at a corporate meeting? "The projected figures for the scarf-wrangling department for the next quarter-" CRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCH

Not that I've been in a large corporate meeting recently. But it looks like it might seem like a good idea at the time to take one of those juicy delicious apples, and then the moment you bite into it, you realise what a devastating mistake you've made. But there's no alternative; you can't throw it away. There's nowhere to put it. You can't just hold it. There is simply nothing for it but to finish it in the most cringeworthy three to ten minutes of your life. (Depending on eating habits, mouth size, fruit size and density.)

The only possible reason I can think of is dramatic effect: your rival is sitting across from you, presenting his most important and impressive report for the year, and you start to slowly and malevolently eat an apple. Ah, the cut-throat corporate world's latest weapon.

Apples are the loudest fruit. Why have them in a meeting room?

et in arcania ego

2011-02-17T21:52:50Z

After riding in Dorking, my life this week continued to present me with activities that would imply to the casual observer that I was living in a million pound mansion on The Bishop's Avenue rather than in a three bed ex-council house in a slightly less nice but still rather cheerful, comfortably middle-class area in north London. One of my friends invited me to have a drink with him at The Savile Club, which is an exclusive one-time gentlemen's club near Bond Street. I say one-time because of course the equality laws no longer allow them to be gentlemen's clubs.

Small irrelevant sideline: apparently The Savile Club never actually made it explicit that it was gentlemen-only; it was simply understood. Since each new member have to be vouched for by several existing members, the tradition of gents-only has been sustained even past the equality laws. It's not that women aren't allowed; it just hasn't been done yet. (In theory. The cynically-minded of you may disagree.) We found a lot of amusement-value in the thought of my becoming the first female member of the Savile. For that I would have to have a few people who would vouch for me, for it to pass the committee, and I'd have to have a spare £1000 kicking around for the privilege of pretending to be rich...

Of course, things being what they are, while it's most assuredly not worth £1000 to me, it is very nice in there. Apparently the interiors are restored rather than originals, but they are of the classic dark wood and leather, distinctly masculine style one would certainly associate with a gentlemen's club. It's an aesthetic I happen to like very much, a lot more than the lighter rooms in pastels, designed for parties of women to inhabit while the menfolk adjourn to the smoking room for brandy. (Unsurprisingly, far less effort has been put into making the "women's" rooms nice.) The bar contains a large number of leather-upholstered chairs, an open fire, a decent collection of whiskies and other drinks, and on the mantelpiece there stands the Wager Book, filled with bets - usually around £5-10 - on anything from the cricket results and drinking games to the outcome of the presidential elections. ("The wager: if Barack Obama becomes the next democratic candidate in the presidential election, he will be successful.")

This is one place where Old England still survives. I wasn't sure it really had; there are perhaps a few remnants of it left in the British pub, or on the golf course, or in certain parts of London (the East End, for instance, under threat of gentrification but still somewhat present). I am endlessly fascinated by it, this pillar of British wealth. And it struck me how powerful an aid it could be to the conduction of business. By virtue of belonging to the same club, you make contacts for a lifetime - so different to the relentless uphill struggle of modern day advertising. A good word here and there, and imagine the possibilities! (This is an oversimplification. There must be a host of social conventions that make that world almost as difficult to navigate as the world outside. At The Savile, for example, one must never talk about business, or what one does for work.)

I must be an odd little chameleon. I can fit into that world by virtue of my accent and education, but I will always have an unconventional approach to things (though recent events have taught me that you NEVER KNOW what lies beneath the posh exterior). This may be innate, but I rather suspect that it has something to do with the dual influences of my Hungarian upbringing and a British private school education. Through my education and choice of subjects (Classics has always been well-respected especially in those circles), I can hold my own at places like this. But my parents' way of forming relationships, the intimacy enjoyed by the Hungarians: it adds a layer foreign and curiously attractive to the English. Having spent some formative relationship years (17-23) with A means that an added layer of ability to communicate was evolved at a very important time. Thus something unexpected formed: someone the English can relate to, have some common ground with, but who brings an alien warmth and openness to the table, who talks about things the English don't talk about.

(I realise that this may be a contentious topic, and as such extremely subjective. Do weigh in!)

But what a strange place! It really is another world in there, at once insular and expanded. You can be sure that everyone has received a public school education. Thus all manner of conversational topics are possible, but is something missing? Something more abstract and indefinable, an intimacy and human connection not found in the halls, by the warm hearths, rich dinners, quiet reading rooms. That world is very comfortable, but does it feed the soul; does it challenge?

Exit London, via trapdoor.

2011-02-12T01:02:45Z

Tomorrow I'll be going horse riding for the first time in years. I've never fallen from a horse before, but if I ever do, it's much more likely to be on a day when there is a camera in the vicinity. Ah yes.

But you know, I forget sometimes how wonderful it is to get out of town. I do get out sometimes when I go to Budapest, but it's not quite the same as good old English countryside, with old pubs, open fires, and small farms.

egadfly and I went to a tiny place called Thaxted a few years ago, a small town north of London, which served no other purpose than to Not Be London. It did remarkably well and though there wasn't anything especially interesting or captivating to look at, it really wasn't the point. We went at a fairly unseasonable time of year - late February/early March if I remember - and we were content with the tiny churchyard, cemetary, and ye olde English pubbe as our main sources of entertainment, and for the evening, an old scratchy VHS of Wuthering Heights. The difference in setting and lack of intravenous internet was enough to regenerate us.

So. Roll on Dorking.

trippingowl @ 2010-12-30T18:15:00

2010-12-30T18:50:49Z

I have to stop WABbing.

Thelema wine

2010-12-30T16:02:41Z

Majestic sells Thelema wine, but only by the case of 6 or 12. (12 online, 6 in store.)

If I get enough takers, I will buy a case, probably in store as there is only one type online (unless someone can give me a glowing recommendation of the Mountain Red 2007 Elgin). They usually cost between £10-13 per bottle. Is anyone keen?

Also, does anyone have any tips on which ones are the best?

trippingowl @ 2010-12-21T03:45:00

2010-12-21T03:45:58Z

Why is it that professional florists make such ugly bouquets? Or am I the only person who thinks this?

I love flowers. I love getting flowers. I'm a girl with fairly progressive views, but I'm not above getting excited over receiving some overpriced foliage. Apart from just liking flowers in general, there are certain elements of old-world charm that I still find, well, charming.

Just to turn that on its head, I also love giving flowers to boys. Especially just because, not for any special occasion.

Every time I even consider sending flowers to someone - for a birthday, or just for the hell of it - I make the mistake of thinking of a professional florist. Then I look at the websites. It almost puts me off flowers altogether; the arrangements just leave me completely cold. It's not just that they will always look sickeningly identical to the picture, but the arrangement itself is hideously impersonal. Cookie cutter bouquets. If I were receiving flowers, I'd much rather have a simple bunch of tulips wrapped in brown paper. Maybe in thin tissue paper in a matching colour, but really, there's a certain charm to brown paper wrapping.

Instead we get cellophane, and this horrid squat thing they call a bouquet. I appreciate that a measure of skill must go into the symmetry of a professional bouquet of flowers, and yes, there must be some composition at work... The awful thing is that these bouquets come at a premium. We're looking at the very least £25, probably more like £30-40, whereas tulips are about £4 for 10. A nice bunch of flowers, when you put it together yourself with the florist on the corner, can cost around £20, and can be as cheap as £8 if you're clever and good with colours.

So what does one do instead? The only thing I can think of is to scope out the little local florists and ask them to do what I want, and offer to pay them if they deliver.

Sodding Interflora.

Boys, what do you think of getting flowers from girls? Girls, do you still like the odd bunch of daisies, or does it seem a hopeless symbol of past rituals?

They are assembling the beds as we speak.

2010-10-08T12:33:42Z

This is going to be a very list-oriented post, which is not surprising since my life for the last few weeks has consisted of to-do lists.

I do apologise everyone who might have suffered as a result of the hectic moving schedule. I know I would like to have seen more of you all over the last month of being in London, but between work, travelling between north London, Barking, and Isleworth a lot, anything other than taking it a day at a time has been impossible. So, here I am. This weekend, I shall have moved into a place in north London with foamyshowbiz and Ed. By Monday, we will even have a fridge. And a washer-dryer.

The boring details:

We were EXTREMELY LUCKY. I was getting quite stressed out by the third week when nothing was materialising.

The elements against which we were pitted:

1. We picked exactly the wrong time to make this move. We really ought to have been looking in July, before all the students moved in. As it was, we caught the market on the downslide, and not only does this mean that it's very competitive to try and find a place, it's very hard to negotiate with both landlords and agents (who, by the way, can be so very high-handed).

2. None of us has enough of a renting history in this country to be deemed trustworthy.

3. None of us are employed or have the possibility of a UK based guarantor.

4. Agent fees are exorbitant.

The two factors which saved our collective ass:

1. A stellar agent with whom we've rented before. The fact of our renting in the past meant that they were prepared to make SIGNIFICANT concessions re: guarantors, references, credit checks - in other words, we needed practically nothing, just reasonably convince the agent that we could come up with the money. These same agents phoned me before putting the property on the market because the previous candidates hadn't come up with the correct references. They also took very little admin fee - greatly reduced, and far less than charged by all the others out there. Just for a laugh, ask Foxtons what they charge. (Over £300, plus they charge for a whole lot of other shit you don't need.)

2. Our awesome family (i.e. dad and grandmother) who were prepared to help us out with the deposit and first month's rent in advance.

Of course, I'm dead now. In a partly deliberate endeavour to test my reserves, I actually deliberately planned a bunch of stuff in the last couple of weeks.

Things I've done in the last week and a half:
Went to Slimelight (again).
Went to afterparty (again).
Saw a friend's short film at a small social gathering last week.
Several days of work at the spa.
Had three dates in the space of four days, and was taken on a motorcycle for the first (few) time(s) ever. Now I want one myself.
Spent 2 nights with Francesca in Barons Court (I keep wanting to type an apostrophe in there!) There are pictures with lightsabres and masks. Francesca is one of those people with whom anything and everything can and will happen. It's great fun.
Travelled between Barons Court, Barking, Finchley Central, Isleworth, to sign papers, collect keys, collect random stuff from disparate places and move it ALL OVER LONDON.
Found 2-3 clients for my private practice
Visited the war memorial in Windsor, also a tiny old-fashioned tea room with a very noisy freezer, and a pub, with an unexpected overnight stay. Windsor is beautiful.
Where possible, catch snippets of time with a gentleman friend - usually a couple of hours in a coffee shop sandwiched between his busy schedule and my bizarre ferrying about. Between us we have half a social life.
Wrote an 8000 word article about visiting Budapest on the cheap.

I'm sure I've missed a few things.

There may not have been much sleep this week (probably averaging about 4 hours per night). Hopefully see you all later tonight, where I may be required to be tranquillised.

*** edit *** I've realised that I keep skipping a day. Of course I meant tomorrow, when we all gather in the centrum for sebrelations.

Larger than life

2010-09-27T02:07:34Z

Busy few days. On Friday morning, I went for coffee at the atmospheric Scooter Caffe, with its old Vespa in the window. Dark and secluded downstairs, the air exudes "quirky"; maybe a little bit too ostentatiously, but I like it... Corpses of old coffee-machines (old style Elektras, etc) were mounted above the bar for posterity. Work after Scooter Caffe seemed almost too mundane.

Saturday: I visited the campus of Royal Holloway to take a look around, watched my friend Michael give an introductory talk for his potential undergraduates, and basked in the autumn sun in the main quad. There were perhaps 25-30 prospective students, some with parents. It was a curious viewpoint, an observer but one with no intent to pursue the course - and therefore standing a little outside the moment.

Saturday night was A Night Out to an old and familiar haunt. A hideous journey both ways. Returning, the choice to take a cab from Acton town or face at least 1.5 hours and three night buses to complete what was by car less than a ten minute journey.
We left the afterparty at approximately 11pm on Sunday, and therefore were out for for nearly 24 hours...

The mix of people was excellent; a good combination of both familiar and unfamiliar people. I ended up with more names to friend on Facebook than I'd accumulated even in the last few months. And at the club, I encountered another poly girl whose views ran so close to mine as to be remarkable. Not that I need everyone to agree with me, but the sense of "I'm not the only one who feels this way" is an important one. And it is encouraging to meet people who have made a poly lifestyle work for them. It sounded complicated, but rewarding, which is how most poly people describe it - a lot of work some of the time, but intensely satisfying.

The club night itself wasn't up to all that much, but one or two musical elements stuck in my mind... One is that, rather unusually for this scene, one of the djs played a lot of psytrance. And there was one spectacularly failed attempted to mix Soman - Divine (modulate remix) with New Order - Confusion (the Blade bloodbath dance track). Good lord. After a few tries, you'd think he'd say to himself, "Well, this isn't working. Sod it." and stop torturing it.

Me: misanthropic today. Yeah, I hate you. Especially you.

trippingowl @ 2010-09-16T14:56:00

2010-09-16T13:56:53Z

I am back from Budapest now, doing strategic househunting business from my current nerve centre with Crackity. For whatever reason, I had neither the impetus nor the creativity to write for this journal while I was in Budapest. If I had to guess, I'd say that it was simply that all my processing power was going towards working out what I'm going to do next, what I want out of relationships, and other things that are important to me. The fruits of my endeavours are as follows:

I have a plan to apply to a few places to do a Masters in Classics next year - and it will almost certainly be in the UK. (I can't quite see my way to spending 5-6 years in the States, even if they pay me to study.)

I'm poly. This doesn't preclude the possibility of being in a committed monogamous relationship, but I seem to be wired in a certain way, and that's to be able to sustain more than one intimate relationship at once. Also, I'm not really a jealous person. Occasionally I feel it, but I care enough about the principle to try not to react irrationally, and get over it.

I'm not thrilled by the prospect of doing one specific type of work, full time, for a long time. I can see the merit in being a career-oriented person, but I love variety and stimulation, and trying to work my way up one single ladder (even in a challenging job) seems too restrictive. My plan may be unsustainable, but currently it is to find several different, smaller scale types of employment - including massage, writing (journalism, travel writing), and maybe some part time admin.

I am also a lot more in tune with what I want out of life, feeling more confident, feeling more comfortable in myself. I call the Budapest experiment complete, and a resounding success!

Mini-update complete. See you all very soon, I hope... Available for hugs and snacks and other assorted social activities.

The Glutton

2010-04-10T04:02:07Z

I threw my head back and gulped down the night sky,
a silent, selenal sacrifice
squandered in a chasmic maw
Couldn't stand the twinkly lights
so Snuff!
Gone, a quotidian event almost.
Scruffed
my way to the sea and
cut it up like a tv dinner
wolfed it,
salty tang of shipwrecks past
caressed my tongue
to remind me of shipwracked futures
Shall I wait for them?
Or scarf the rest, the grassy hills
and stripped, blanched cliffs
voluptuous ancestral soil
blood spattered plains
Reads like a recipe,
a shopping list of this earth of mine
reduce this
parboil that
take one country,
season well with chalk and granite
garnish with a forest.
No, instead speak of torrents of light
shafts of beauty,
creation in all forms
Rather than truth:
rolling eyes and ravening lips
to grey unbending heavens
Without a sound
Earth disappeared into me,
absorbed
Devoured.

Megatrip

2010-03-29T05:20:37Z

The next month is planned out. There will be a lot of time spent in aeroplanes. There will be a lot of walking around unknown streets. I assume there will be quite a lot of cursing at maps.

This is my megatrip. The itinerary is as follows:

31st March - 7th April: spend 19 hours on trains to visit excellent friend, & meet up with egadfly & I. Repose in the hitherto unmolested land of Poland for 1 week.

7th - 12th April: fly to London for Z & D''s ceremony and get ducks in a row before...

12th - 15th April: flying to San Francisco to look at Berkeley and Stanford universities. Here I will be staying with a charming little family in the heart of SF, with one night in a hostel first. I imagine I'll be hugging my bag as I sleep to avoid theft. Looking forward to meeting scholars in my preferred field (Greek tragedy) and seeing some of that beautiful city.

15th - 20th April: fly to LA to see, well, UCLA. I have been looking at suburban LA on Google street view. Why haven't they got any fucking pavements? So that they can get the maximum amount of lawn possible for their cookie cutter houses? Apparently. I have had a kind offer to be shown some of the sights of LA. I think a visit to the Getty Centre might be in order, and I might submit to being cavorted around the skies at Van Nuys airport, funds permitting. (Translation: I think it might be enormously cool to go up in a small plane and have a look around from above...)

20th - 27th April: back to London for a week

27th April: back to Budapest.

Currently I have nothing much scheduled for my stays in London apart from the ceremony. Last time I overbooked my time a bit and ended up feeling very stressed running about, so most social engagements will be on the fly.

So. On Wednesday commenceth the Megatrip. I'm very excited. I'll have been to 3 new places by the time a month is up. (4 if you count a 2.5 hour stop in Washington, but I don't, since you don't see anything other than the airport.) Yey!

Post-hibernation wanderings (part 2)

2010-03-24T01:48:13Z

So. We've been through work.

Relationships:

The time has come for me to assess what I want out of relationships of a romantic nature. It's so easy to fall into the trap of subscribing to the general consensus that one looks for One Person. I have taken two large strides in my understanding of the nature of relationships.

The first transition was to evolve from "You find one person to complete you" to "Relationships are journeys. They are unique and informative and wonderful and experiential in their own right. They can be long or short, casual or serious, but they are all beautiful learning experiences, regardless of whether they last a week or a lifetime." I still believe this. I think if more people thought this way rather than neurotically thinking that they must find The One, everyone would be a lot happier. That's not to say that some people aren't suited to monogamy; rather, everyone has their own ideal model for a relationship.

The second transition was to realise that one doesn't necessarily have to lock oneself into a one-on-one relationship. In fact, while I totally acknowledge that this may be the right thing for many people, and that many people can easily do it, for me it seems a little bit fucked up. I value above all things the ability to go out and experience new things. How do you learn if you don't go find out for yourself? Maybe this is a product of my youth, that at 25 I haven't finished going out and doing stuff. But I have an inkling that maybe that's not true.

Now, one argument may be that if the relationship is good, if it's right, you can get more out of the relationship by going out and experiencing stuff together. I think this is true in part. (I think one major failing of the traditional monogamous relationship "paradigm" is that it's supposed to magically satisfy in every way. It takes a lot of work, and a lot of openness, and a fuckload of communication to have a happy and healthy monogamous relationship.) But surely it makes more sense that while you can go and experience lots of things together, you can equally allow each other the freedom to experience things solo? There are some things that are by nature "inexperienceable" as a couple. Most people weigh up the benefits (or not) and agree to sacrifice these things for the greater good of being a couple. A few decide to find a middle ground that is quite similar to but not exactly the same - because it can never BE exactly the same, as they are by nature solo experiences. And a very, very few decide to mould their relationship into such a thing that will allow for such solo experiences. This does require one to overcome such things as jealousy, however, if these experiences were to include emotional and sexual experiences with people other than one's stable partner.

One aspect of it is, I suppose, one's idea of what a relationship ought to be. One very powerful image of finding a partner is to find someone to "complete" one. I feel very uncomfortable with this idea. Does that mean that if one finds the right Someone and they leave, one is somehow left incomplete? Or one is incomplete to begin with? Or that one doesn't need anything other than the partner? I find myself much preferring the idea that each is evolving and progressing as a complete person, but whose life is enriched by the partner to the extent that the two would like to stay together. I think this outlook is a lot less common than people say it is. Our basic programming at childhood is the former rather than the latter, for which I believe the media is largely to blame.

Again, I meander. The summary of my feelings about all of this is, to once and future partners: You must do what is right for you, and I will do what is right for me.

It seems selfish to limit my partner's experiences because of some silly emotion such as jealousy. I would much rather learn to overcome it and allow my partner to go out and discover than both of us live shackled by the restrictions of my emotions. And I would like to be with someone who feels the same way.

But heck. Everything I say could be wrong. Next week, I could settle down in a riverbed with a hippopotamus and chew on stuff for a decade.

It could happen.

Post-hibernation wanderings

2010-03-24T01:00:01Z

Big questions. Big questions. What am I doing here? What do I want? Where am I going? What's important?

This is what I came to Budapest to do: to ask all those questions. Here I have the time and freedom to think about such things, and it is very useful. Things are coalescing, certain ideas are forming, I wonder and think and dream about lots of stuff. There are, however, some things that aren't clear yet.

Work:

Well, this is complicated. I love doing massage. I find that it grounds me, and whenever I haven't done it for a while and then do a session, I remember why I liked it so much. (That is, the stuff that isn't enmired in the general emotional cesspool that surrounds my feelings towards the spa.) But I know that massage, and by extension other forms of physical therapy, while satisfying, are not my calling. I need something to engage my brain in addition to being fulfilling in other ways. Therefore I envisage being quite picky about what I eventually end up doing. Now I need to find Something To Do.

This is hard. It is hard primarily because I find I can't really justify spending a significant portion of my time doing something I don't fully believe in. (Though I acknowledge that it may be necessary to spend time doing things I don't really believe in/care about in order to get to the things I do believe in.) And it turns out there aren't that many things I believe in enough to put my attention to it. This raises two questions.

- Is it necessary to do something that I consider generally worthy in order for it to have meaning? (e.g. do I think it has to have Virtue?) Or is it enough to do something that interests me, and let my personal growth alone be the goal?

- What do I define as generally, globally "virtuous"?

It may be helpful to put into 2 categories some of the things I feel interested in.

Personal interests not directly related to the benefit of the world:

Film editing
Academic study in the relatively obscure field of ancient Greek tragedy
Er... I'm sure there are more...

Generally Virtuous activities:

Eco-housing development and construction (in which I've been interested for a while)
Journalism (I do think it's important to record and bear witness to certain events in the world. The disadvantage to this is that it could well lead me to dangerou places in order to qualify as Virtuous. And in fact Interesting.)
Being part of the armed forces (an ethical minefield all of its own - and begs the question, can I live in a country - or a world - I don't volunteer to protect?)
Working for a charity

Part of this is due to how I think about things. As I get older, I perceive the world in more and more layers. Increasingly, I feel as though the superficial perceptions of reality are not the entire picture. It feels as though there is more. I feel as though with each moment, I draw closer to understanding the big picture, but it's like Zeno's paradox... the distance between me and my goal of perfect understanding gets smaller and smaller, but never produces a tortoise. Or something.

I have a proto-theory that perfect understanding is attained on - or just before - the moment of death. Whether that's because death is enlightening or because one has achieved all that one is likely to achieve in this world, so the universe moves one on... that's anybody's guess. If you're still here, you still have something to learn. (This is why people who act like they know everything really amuse me.)

That was a serious digression. My point is that if everything is an illusion, if there are more layers to one's life than the daily grind, a lot of things come to seem a bit... well, pointless. Selling stuff, making films, writing books... But then, where does one draw the line? Surely if you take that argument to its logical, extreme conclusion, life itself becomes a bit pointless. Since I'm not a true nihilist, I don't think that's the case. So the line is arbitrary: the question has to be not "what is generally, globally important?" but "what is important to You?". And that is crux of the matter, folks. That's what I'm in the process of working out.

Continued in part 2.

Day 1, Budapest

2009-12-01T01:59:58Z

I was at my dad's flat last night, taking the tiny, cramped lift up to the third floor.

Dad: There have been a number of break-ins in our building... hence the gate they've installed. You must've seen it.
Me: Sure... But I'm sure they haven't broken into your place. It's a fortress.
Dad: Yes.
Me: Is the other flat as secure?
Dad: Maybe. I don't know.
(later, looking at locks at my place.)
Me: That's not a fortress.
Dad: Oh, it's fine. This one doesn't work (pointing at heavy bolt) but it's fine.
Me: I like the bolt, though.
Dad: Mmm... Well.
Me: Would you find it acceptable for your place?
Dad: Yes...
Me: Are you lying?
Dad: Yes.

(It's pretty safe in my area.)

Equasy

2009-11-24T04:12:09Z

Professor Nutt, former head of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs, was sacked last month for highlighting the wrongheadedness of the government's approach to drugs - in its distribution of information and in its legislation. He suggested that erring on the side of caution (as with the reversal of the cannabis reclassification) can confuse the situation. He said: "I think the precautionary principle misleads. It starts to distort the value of evidence and therefore I think it could, and probably does, devalue evidence.” Alan Johnson said that by lobbying for a change in government policy, he had undermined the government's attempts to provide clear messages on drugs.

Several things.

First of all, the idea that the government provides clear messages on drugs is laughable. It is as clear as a nice G&T that many class A drugs are not nearly as detrimental to the health as tobacco and alcohol, yet they are outlawed while booze and fags are still available on every corner. That, to me, is sort of the opposite of a clear message, really.

Total hypocrisy. It is just that it is practical to ban mushrooms but not to do so with alcohol and tobacco, simply because to ban the latter two would criminalise too large a group of people. And - a point which the government wouldn’t necessarily shout too loudly - alcohol and tobacco are nicely taxed and bring in a tidy little packet every year. (I mean, the money for luxury duck houses has to come from somewhere...)

I wonder what would happen if someone had a quiet word about the fiscal benefits of taxing ecstasy?

I loathe hypocrisy, but I loathe it even more when it has direct negative consequences on the general public. The government claims to make the country a better place for having drug control laws. I contest this - strongly. There is no evidence that making drugs illegal has any effect on their availability. The black market is incredibly large; anyone could go out and buy anything, with a bit of research. If certain drugs were decriminalised, there would be safety controls on the contents of ecstasy pills, reducing the likelihood of adverse effects from whatever crap they happen to be cut with. Information on the effects and dangers of chemicals would be more widespread - instead of the “abstinence only” approach (which we laugh at when it comes to sex ed), and the taxes on these chemicals could fund a health plan to deal with drug dependence, addiction, drug-related health concerns, and studies to discover the exact short- and long-term effects of drugs on the human mind and body. I have in the past vacillated over whether or not to include seriously addictive drugs in my general policy on these matters. I conclude that yes; everyone knows it is extremely addictive. The state does not have the right to tell us what we can do with our own bodies. Everyone knows it’s an incredibly stupid thing to do; it is their choice. (Practically speaking, possibly the best thing to do would be to legalise to minimise the social harm (crime), but strictly control availability to avoid messes like child-addicts.)

Back to the original topic. I’m not entirely sure what my view is on whether or not Professor Nutt should have been sacked. It is arguable as to whether his comments can be interpreted as lobbying, or were comments that were relevant to his duty in a larger body of information. Let us assume that the former is the case for a moment. On the one hand, I disagree on pretty much every level with the current policy on drugs. It bears next to no relation at all to the actual health risks and social dangers of drugs. The government might be trying to provide clear messages on drugs, but those messages are just plain wrong. Alcohol kills thousands of people per year, while studies show that ecstasy kills less than 30. And I laud anyone who has the guts to stand up for the vastly unpopular truth and present it on a plate. On the other hand, however, it wasn’t Professor Nutt’s job to comment on or influence government policy. His job was to provide data so that the people in power had the right information with which to make policy decisions. The logical bit of my bwain says it’s not his job. The bit that agrees with Professor Nutt’s views vociferously demands that he not only lobby, but make drug policy decisions. Alas, this is not to be.

It is clear, however, that policy decisions are not based on the advisory data at all. The whole business is mystifying. The impact on society of, say, the recently-banned mushrooms was so small, yet some people went out of their way to criminalise a whole bunch of people unnecessarily. So, why do they do it? Policy may be totally political, because in so many other ways it makes no sense at all.

What I find interesting is that They (suitably paranoid indeterminate pronoun) think that this is what everyone wants. Certainly in America, being vocally on the “right” side of the drug war is a vote-winner. It may even be that in the UK (in circles in which I thankfully don’t move), strong anti-drugs policy is also a vote-winner.
Are they battering at the door of an empty house? Evangelising at a deserted Speaker’s Corner? Or does the vast majority of people really want all drugs except alcohol and nicotine to be banned?

Another, arguably even more depressing possibility is that the nanny state has rammed the idea that drugs are bad so firmly into its head that there is no room for other possibilities, not even when the truth about relative risk is so blindingly obvious. It may simply be that “drugs are bad” is part of the hardwiring of too many people in power.

I don't think it's too paranoid to say that it seems likely that Alan Johnson and compatriots must have been waiting for Professor Nutt to step out of line, ever since his news article and paper illustrating the absurdity of our attitude towards drugs. (It is titled Equasy, and draws a parallel between ecstasy addiction and addiction to horse-riding - a condition he names equasy -
which cause roughly the same level of harm - physical and social. His point is that we don't try to outlaw horse-riding.) He is exactly the right kind of liberal straight-thinker that the government would rather be on the other side of the planet.

Which brings me to a fun, stray thought. I've always thought of the States as being the more active of our two countries in terms of scare tactics in politics. But it seems to me that when it comes to drugs, the British government is just as bad. FEAR ALL DRUGS is the party line, and Professor Nutt was an interesting - and tragic - trial case of what happens when you test the boundaries of that.

I have great sympathy for someone dealing with what I would imagine be a great deal of frustration with an irrational and basically broken system. I am also a bit annoyed that Professor Nutt didn't see this coming and allowed that frustration to get him sacked from a position in which he might have done some (more) good, with a bit of manoeuvring behind the scenes. Of COURSE they were going to sack him. And I respect him for standing up for his views; I’m not sure I’d have stayed silent, in his position. In addition, it can’t be a bad thing that the drugs question has gained some publicity and that there is a bit of healthy debate going on. But really, the largest part of me says this:

Shame on Alan Johnson for getting rid of someone who tried to tell the truth.

Raise high the roof-beams, workmen!

2009-11-03T02:35:07Z

Like Ares come the housemates
Taller than all tall men!

It’s one of those moments. You’re just about to step off the edge of the grassy cliff-edge and inhale - almost involuntarily - as deep as you can. You know it’ll be terrifying, and you know it’ll feel like you can’t breathe, your lungs are too full, and the wind will be whistling past your ears. I can’t wait for the fall; it feels like I’ve been stepping with tiny steps for months and months now, just as though I were mapping out how many foot-lengths. It feels like having been on crutches. I can’t wait to run. But it’s worth looking back, just for a minute, at the rocky and beautiful terrain behind me.

Crackity and I have been living together for six years. Tomorrow the GGG is - at least temporarily, at least in the most superficial sense - dissolved. Some of us remain in GG. Some of us move to deepest darkest south London. Some of us move to Budapest. So here I am, taking a moment to mark the occasion; we are separate.

My one-or-anothertime flatmates (bumpycat, crackity, egadfly) have all been cracking friends and great flatmates. I count myself incredibly lucky to have crossed lives with them all.

Bumpycat, well-cool army-boy extraordinaire, you were l33t housemate, saviour of poor, burgled trippingowls, and discoverer of glorious asian silliness to share with fellow geeks. Unspeakably glad to know you and your wonderful Korean familiar, and sorry to be leaving you in GG!

Egadfly, great friend and guardian of all things good, thanks for all the help on my work-in-progress. I don’t have to witness the absurdity to know it’s there. Er... Comforting.

And the amazon queen of midnight hair, dearest Iza (not technically a housemate, but GG is pretty much a really big house, right?), keep up the Jumper Puppets and frolics in the park. If you don’t pop in for coffee at my place in our easterly corner of the world, the capitalist swine will win and our plot for world domination will fail (along with Serious Plans for elimination of certain colours of the rainbow).

Crackity, scarecrow, it’s scary-level telepathy we gots. So you know what I’m thinking. There seems little need to elaborate. Mr & Mrs Jones, joyously geeky, indescribably rude to each other; hasn’t it been wonderful?

My Magnus O’puss (a cat joke WAS necessary, so there) isn’t nearly done, so I yet hurtle into the vast unknown, knowing that I have true friends, each with another piece of the map of this glorious illusion.

I hope this doesn’t come across as a eulogy. I look forward to many more great times with these people; with ALL of you! Don’t think you’re going to escape.

Stretching Time

2009-10-24T23:40:26Z

I want to learn how to stretch time. Or maybe split my experience of the universe into two or three individual threads and then collapse them. Because, really, I don't have enough time.

I don't like not having enough time. I don't like complaining about not having enough time, either; I'd much prefer to be able to just put my head down and get on with it. But today I feel like a good whinge, because really, what else is LJ for, except to excite your friends with how much you have to do and how little time you have to do it in? Bad time management, a few emergencies, and a large dose of stress mean that I've had very little time to call my own in the last six weeks. Some commitments were unavoidable, some were made without thinking them through, and some were, in fact, genuinely well-thought-out choices, with which I am completely happy. The end result was that the slices of time between these commitments became ever smaller, leaving less and less time to spend with Man before I leave the country. Cue mild misery and frustration, because part of the nature of the problem is that I don't quite know how things turned out this way. I seem to trip on something and my week is full. The trade-off seems completely unnecessary; surely there should be time enough to do everything?

If only I could make lots of versions of myself, parallel-experiencing the same time in different locations - but be able to compartmentalise so I don't get too distracted. So I want to lounge around at home all day, watching movies with Man, and I want to go and see everyone, and take lots of photographs around town, and I want to see my grandparents, and I want to help Crackity with his house-hunt, and... well, the list goes on.

/whinge.

For information on the recent state of my love life and kitchen, here is a picture titled Man Plus Onions:

Talents include making l33t breakfast, wearing pink shirts, and thrilling the socks off small, slightly insane girls with long hair.

Meanwhile, I rediscovered the joy of a decent digital camera, even though it takes BLOODY AGES of waiting in front of the computer to get the photos off. I should really get a card reader.

Golders Green needs padded walls

2009-10-07T12:51:54Z

I wonder if it's the same dude by whom egadfly was accosted for answers the other day. I was carrying home some packing boxes from Sainsbury's just now and saw a tramp - looking decidedly the worse for wear - walking around on the corner, shouting at a rubbish bin and brandishing two small packets of Doritos (blue). He harangued the bin for a few moments, then stalked purposefully off with the air of someone about to hold up a bank.

There seem to be more than a few crazies in this area. Once I saw another homeless guy sitting (just resting) on the floor in a charity shop. He told me about how he once swam in the sea and got attacked by a shark. He told me some other stories as well, which are sort of plausible: maybe he's who's lived a rich and full life and has ended up down on his luck, but also possibly entirely made up by a delusional old man with no job. He seemed quite lucid, though, and lovely and friendly.

There was also this corpulent orthodox Jewish man in his fifties sitting on a broken bench outside the library, one side of which had collapsed. The whole setup made it seem as though he had sat on the bench, made it collapse, and hadn't bothered to get up. The thing that made it truly bizarre was that there was a perfectly new, unbroken bench right next to him, which was empty of people.

And then there's the little old homeless lady who usually finds a bus stop or an empty shop entrance in which to sit, and feeds the FUCKING PIGEONS ALL DAY SO THERE'S ALWAYS A VILE MESS ON THE PAVEMENT.

Foamy needs to move into the area and do a little housekeeping.

Though by now the little old lady has become something of a fixture in this area.

Oh, and Crackity has seen a man sitting outside the library (probably on that same bench), looking into the distance and saying "There's a Tyrannosaurus Rex over there" over and over, as though he could really see it, and felt he needed to warn somebody, but could clearly perceive that no one else was seeing it...

A stray T-Rex in Golders Green. Do you suppose it takes a break from maiming and killing on the sabbath?

What's black and white all over - oh, not anymore, sorry...

2009-10-02T08:25:46Z

It was recently suggested by a news presenter that pandas are not worth saving, basically because we are pouring millions of pounds into saving an animal that has little natural habitat to inhabit in the wild.

Now, apparently, someone has given us a reason. The Ig Nobel Biology award went to "Fumiaki Taguchi, Song Guofu and Zhang Guanglei of Kitasato University Graduate School of Medical Sciences in Sagamihara, Japan, for demonstrating that kitchen refuse can be reduced more than 90% in mass by using bacteria extracted from the faeces of giant pandas." (Full details of the other awards here.)

Surely this is groundbreaking stuff in our quest to minimise our "carbon footprint"? Oh, and that phrase is beginning to annoy me. You know what leaves footprints? FEET.

In any case, I wonder if Chris Packham, said news presenter, realises that it doesn't matter how right you are; if you advocate allowing the extinction of a cute, fluffy animal, you're gonna lose. There is no way you come out of this looking good, and nobody is going to stop saving panda-bears. What, Pandas International are just going to close up shop? I can already see it. They'll post a shiny new bulletin and say, "Well, now that Chris Packham has told us not to bother with those cute but useless monochromatic bears, we're going to use the money we saved up for a rollerdisco. BYO cheezwhiz."

My philosophy is this: you break it, you fix it. It seems morally bankrupt to destroy the native habitat of a creature and then stop short of doing everything to restore it. We have opened Pandora's box and there is pandemonium. Chris Packham is simply pandering to the recession-pressured masses and our pandemic of apathy. That pandour should be given a good pandy with a stiff ruler.

(Ok. Enough of this pandiculated verbal torture.)

West Wing panda-related humour:

Mandy: "Ping dies, Sing-Sing mourns - pandas, it turns out, mourn - and for Sing-Sing it seemed like the time was unendurable."
Toby: "I know exactly how he felt."

Pennies

2009-08-15T03:28:23Z

One by one, two by two,

wishes for kisses

in buckets, girl drew

thoughtless and thoughtful -

still liquid disturbed singly -

careless and careful

On slow stone drags her fingertips

waiting for the splash,

to each one pressed her lips,

sent them tingling down

like water down the spine

Dropped with prayer or curse

on coppered tongue

Stare after them, eyes

couldn’t lie; each one

a foreign currency of longing

to pay for sins as yet undone

I couldn't help myself.

2009-08-13T01:26:00Z

Seen on LRB classified section:

"Two hefty, tattooed Brighton skinheads, 43/45. One writes, one reads. Want uncensored sex with bookish blokes who like rough drafts."

Do they need a third to keep an eye on the two intellectuals?

Cognitive Machinery

2009-08-08T03:24:29Z

I thought I'd lost this post when LJ had a Moment a few days ago. I'm very happy to re-discover it, and vow to write it in Word next time. (Until I forget and LJ bitchslaps me again.)

I'm thinking of applying for an MA in Classics. I haven't decided yet, but the idea is becoming more and more attractive. Until I returned to translating Bacchae not too long ago, I'd forgotten what that kind of academic stimulation can be like, and I realise that I rather miss it. The reason it has taken me so long to come to this realisation is that Uni of Doom instilled a slow-burning, disappointed hatred of the British university system.

But this got me looking at my previous essays, because any MA program is going to ask me for some kind of proof that I'm not an imbecile. They'll want at least an extract from my final year dissertation. Whenever I read back over work I've already done, it always seems kind of two-dimensional, even though it was very engrossing at the time. It feels sort of shallow, as though I never get to the heart of what I want to say.

So what has changed between now and the time when I wrote it? I have. As I get older, and my experience broadens and deepens, I have more information to apply to my work. Not just in terms of absolute experience, but in approaches and modes of thinking. I am more complex, able to draw more inferences and make more connections between abstract ideas and concrete facts.

There are a few books from my childhood that I occasionally go back and read again. Dune is one of them - a good example, in fact, as it is so multi-layered. Every time I read it, I find something new - a very interesting marker for how I have changed. My first reading was purely for the experience; the politics and more abstract ideas didn't really attract me, while the action and evocative imagining of the world were paramount.  Now it is the other way round; the action is almost incidental.

I have always tended to assume that what I am experiencing now is the highest possible form of thought that I can achieve - that I can tweak it by learning new skills or new methods of learning, but apart from these tricks I am essentially static since I have reached a certain level of self-awareness. Not true!   A delightful discovery. Our experiences give us more and more models against which to analyse and experience the universe, more context within which to build connections. As long as we recognise this and remain open to our own development, there is no reason to stagnate. (One of my greatest fears.) My father seems a prime example of the other road. In one sense he is very flexible, able to apply his mind to any problem. However, having established a set of rather rigid parameters in his thinking, I think he limits himself. The irony is that I have always felt that he judged my ability to analyse and reason as being inadequate - his own words were "You're not quite there yet." (Patronising? Surely not.) And you know, by his standards it may have been correct - but I have decided that his standards are not the ones by which I wish to measure myself. The only standards that matter to me are mine. I am on my own journey, my own personal evolution.

Meanwhile, I wonder about parenting methods. The temptation (to which my father succumbed) is to explain about different modes of thought and reasoning to my children (if I should have them). But is that wise? If someone had tried to convey to me when I was a child and an adolescent what I now understand about my own mind, I don't think I would have understood it. I lacked the self-awareness and knowledge to see "There is more", so at best it would just have been meaningless, at worst actively confusing. My feeling is that the best way to educate children is not by holding out this holy grail of "high thought", but in fact by giving them as solid a base from which to build it themselves.

This means not giving conflicting information to children. I have always been annoyed by other people's parenting habits. Children are basically tiny machines waiting to be given instructions. If they are given good, clear instructions, then they will work properly. (On the whole.) If they are given lots of conflicting bits of information, they will be full of bugs and will work sporadically and do wildly unexpected things, and in some cases become non-functional. The best thing you can do is to a) explain everything and b) make sure that you are consistent. Not just in words, but in deeds as well. For example, "Don't cross the road when the light is red" is only going to make sense to a child if you avoid doing it yourself, even if there are no cars.   It's impossible to explain to a child: "I crossed the road when the light was red, because I looked around and judged it to be safe. But you are not yet capable of judging for yourself when it is safe, so don't do it." Just wait for the fuckin' light, okay?

It's even worth explaining emotions. "Mummy shouted because she was angry and afraid. She was angry and afraid because you crossed the road when the light was red. It's dangerous to cross the road when the light is red. Mummy was angry and afraid because she thought you would get hit by a car." It sounds idiotic, but I really think it makes things much easier for the child, rather than having to cope with the hurt and incomprehension at an unexplained outburst from a beloved and trusted parent.

It is all about trust. Children are actually quite rational beings until they are taught not to be. They trust/believe that parents will act in a reasonable way, and it's when we don't that things start to go wrong. As long as one is clear and consistent, the child will be able to form good structures on which to build more complex reasoning skills - in both practical and emotional contexts. If they have this one stable base, the child can develop tools to deal with even an inconsistent world.