ahahahahahaha

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On a side note...

I went to see Kill Bill Vol 2. I feel like I should write something about it but I'm not as happy as I expected to be. I went to the cinema expecting lots of blood and violence and by the end of it was left with simply a feeling of blandness. So, I don't really feel like writing anything about it, which is why it is featuring as a sidenote. I didn't hate it, nor did I particularly like it, it was just there, nothing special.

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steak and kidney pie

A few new blogs added to blogroll. Erase the world comes courtesy of heronbone. On reading his blog I found myself offering silent sympathies to the moth who died at his hands. I wonder if some sort of petition or national protest will save the moth that still lives.

Also added is Smokewriting, who I came across via H.U.H.?. Wonderfully lucid philosophical and political discussion that gives me a little hope that a PhD might amount to something. Nice discussion of Zizek, Deleuze and Hegel, reminding me that I really need to get around to reading Zizek as every time I come across him he seems to get more interesting.

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What is the point of.... ?

Vernon Kay.... the epitomy of mediocraty in our age.

I decided to take a welcome break from work to day so I bought the Observer and went off to the park to smoke cigarettes and bake in the sun for an hour or two in an attempt to catch up on what is going on in the world. In the Observer Magazine I found an interview with Vernon Kay and was 'shock and appaulled' (in a very 'Points of View' kind've way) to find him saying:

I would describe myself as the Voice of the Youth (note capital letters) . I'd like to think I'm a reflection of what's going on. I don't express my opinions, though. I don't mouth off about anything in particular . I sit back and soak it all up.

To begin with, he describes himself as the Voice of the Youth. Now, I'm pretty youthful, in fact, I'd say I could be described as being part of youth culture of some sort. My friends, also, are fairly youthful. I'd say we still retain that certain amount of hope that vanishes once one gallops forth into mid-life. However, if Vernon Kay is my voice, and your voice and the voice of every other youthful person in the country then I think its time to get some bolt cutters and go on a rampage and start ripping out tongues.

Secondly, he says he's a reflection of what's going on. Hmmmm.... do you even know what's going on Vernon Kay? Do you really? Because if you did then maybe you wouldn't flounce about presenting dating games and attempting to sound like Peter Kay. You'd probably be trying to deal with the social and economic anxieties that most people have to deal with rather than giving interviews in the observer about how great you are.

I don't express my opinions, though. Or maybe you don't have any. And if you really are a reflection of youth culture then maybe this is the problem. Maybe you're giving teenagers a role model who, in your own words, like to 'sit back and soak it all up.' And really... REALLY, is that how people should live their lives? Sitting back and soaking it all up? Supressing their opinions and simply confirming to some strange image of what it is to be cool.

Vernon Kay.... one of the reasons why the UK is so shite. I wonder if Vernon Kay is the Last Man, steeped in mediocraty, unable to create anything new or become something other. Every word of his short interview cries out that he is pampered and mindless. And if he's right, if he really is the Voice of Youth Culture (which I seriously doubt), then we might as well give up now. All of us, the end, no more......................................jhsfkhsjdfskbcskfhsidflhskfhs

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Blunkett's Fascism

On watching the news today I first heard about Anti-Social Behaviour Orders (ASBO). I tend to be a little out of touch with the world but what I saw I didn't like. Images of a middle aged policeman tossing a 9 year old boy to the ground and cuffing him are a little disturbing when we live in a supposedly 'liberal democratic' country. Admittedly the boy was sniffing glue and had broken his ASBO but he was 9 year olds!! There's not much chance of him being able to hurt an armed policeman.

These ASBOs bother me immensely. I understand that the wider community wants to be protected from the little fucks who steal cars and terrorize people but they do little to go to the root of the problem. From my own experience I would say that the main problem is boredom. There is nothing more boring than a mediocre country with very little to do, especially when you’re living in a working class area and you don’t have the money to do much. When you're a young teenager (pre fake ID) there is little to do except watch TV, go to youth clubs and.... well, I'm struggling to come up with another thing that a teenager might do. As soon as I realised that staying in with the parents every Saturday night watching Casualty and Stars in their Eyes wasn't fun I was out on the street, bottle of Olde English or White Lighting in hand, 'Kegal Ringsize' hanging out of my mouth and generally standing about on street corners being a little bastard. There never seemed to me that there was anything else to do, any other possibility for fun. At that time, West Belfast was extremely rough but when you're 13 you don't have any real conception of violence and consequences... chucking a brick at a bus is simply a way to meander away a few moments of your time. As for school, well, school was so dull that it merely increased the absolute boredom. There seemed to be no place in school for diversity, we simply got told to learn things and spit them out once again... there's no fun in that. The only interesting moments were the bomb drills.

Thankfully for me I realised that a lust for Greek Tragedy and Tolstoy doesn't mix well with roaming the streets so I eventually calmed down. I had books to relieve my boredom and a wise move out of the estates to the country removed me from the lifestyle. But most teenagers don't like books, and most parents don't move to the country. When your main entertainment is television, and television is crap, then you have to make your own. And what is there to do in this dour country of ours? There are no beaches to go to, no mountains to climb, no nice sea to swim in. Parents are usually caught up in their jobs or their own affairs, teachers rarely do much outside of school. So the majority of kids are left sitting on there arses and rather than do that they go out on the streets and cause havoc.

I'm not justifying what they do. I get worried myself when I walk through some areas of Newcastle, others I know just not to go to. And regularly there'll be a group of kids causing havoc on a bus, though if you have a bit of banter with them they're usually all right and occasionally quite funny. But giving a teenager an ASBO doesn't prevent him/her from being bored. As one of the kids in the article says "ASBOs don't work. We are bored." And if they're bored then they make their own fun and it starts all over again. Police and parental threats really do little to stop a wayward kid from doing what s/he wants.

So rather than simply call these kids anti-social or locking them up perhaps Blunkett should look for a way to prevent them from being on the streets in the first place. I have friends who run breakdancing, graffiti and drama workshops for kids in various areas of Newcastle and they get on really well with them. These are kids from the same sort of social background as those in the article and they really appreciate the fact that they are learning something new, that they are being entertained away from the idiot box. Kids aren't stupid, they know that TV is something for middle aged people after a hard days work who like to stare glassy eyed at nothing. Also, TV is shite. With so much energy they could channel it into something that they enjoy doing.... and really, they can't enjoy running about the streets too much. Passing out from solvent abuse or finding yourself in a pool of your own sick after too much Mad Dog 20/20 really isn't fun.

The government though, doesn't seem willing to address the question of boredom. Why the hell should we be bored? We live in one of the most liberal countries in the world! We have so much freedom to do what we want! What? You're bored? Well then... let's run a new season of Big Brother, that'll keep the masses quiet for a while! Oh, I see, you're bored of Big Brother? Well, let's run a different reality TV show that shows how other bored people attempt to relieve the boredom in their boring lives! FUCKING LUSH!!!

Boredom is a serious issue that should be addressed. Otherwise the next 20 years will be spent slapping ASBOs on growing numbers of kids, restricting their movements, keeping them in their houses, keeping them from their friends... David Blunkett's Special Brand Fascism.


Also Jon Snow was wearing a particularly nice tie tonight.

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Torpor, Philosophy and Archbishops

Over the past week or so my mind has become like a stomach that refuses any more alcohol. Every attempt at reading has been forcibly rejected and I've been sinking into some sort of bland lethargy that has hardly been good for my studies. I have made some attempts to retrieve my state of mind. The first was computer games. I decided that for a few days I would give up studying and immerse myself in the wonderful world of Zelda. Unfortunately the cure turned into an addiction and four days later, with very little sleep, I realised that the Gamecube had to go so off it went, back to my brother. I am now of the mind that games consuls contribute to zombieness and if I continued down that path I'd soon end up with the starring role in the next remake of Dawn of the Dead.

So, with that plan foiled I tried socialising. I spent all weekend hanging out with my friends, drinking wine and generally not thinking about work. But I was enjoying myself too much and I'm not allowed to enjoy myself right now so I had to give that up.

However, I took a trip down to Warwick to visit the University in an attempt to solidify my plans to read my MA and PhD there. That, thankfully, went well. I got a nice hotel from Last Minute and off I went on my travels, Serres and Blanchot by my side. I didn't read much of them but I managed to get out some stuff for my dissertation which is taking shape nicely now. I'm also enjoying philosophy again, I just need to get these various essays out of the way so I can throw myself into my dissertation.

Anyway, it looks like I'll be off to Warwick next year. Coventry is horrible though, and the University isn't the prettiest of sights. But the Department is great and it's the best place to do what I want to do. Unfortunately it means I have to postpone my travel plans so rather than be off for two months in America this summer, I'm going back to sunny Ireland to get a job and save some money. Oh, the joys of Belfast in the summer, I can't begin to imagine how much fun it's going to be.......


As for Archbishops, I was reading the Guardian today and I read an article about Rowen Williams. I'm not particularly fond of any public figures, at least, none really spring to mind. But I do have a soft spot for the Archbishop of Canterbury. I'm not a fan of the Church itself, 7 years of an Irish Catholic primary school tends to suppress any devotion to religion, but he kind've reminds me of Santa. And religion, in any form, has the potential for creating all sorts of interesting people. I think it'd be lush to believe your whole life that after your life you're going to still be alive (in some sense at least). If you thought that then it'd make alot of crap much easier..... I'm going off topic....

Quoted from the Guardian today:

"A government that habitually pressed its interests abroad in ways that ignored manifest needs and priorities in the wider human and non-human environment, habitually repressed criticism or manipulated public media - such a regime would, to say the least, jeopardise its claim to obedience because it was refusing attention... It would be concerned finally about control and no more; and so would be a threat to its citizens and others."

Rowan Williams.

The Guardian argues that Dr Williams was talking about principles rather than instances but it's fairly easy to take the principle and apply it to a specific, blatantly obvious instance. If, as the Guardian reports, that Labour believes that the Archbishop is saying nothing new, then why have they never used this principle and applied it to themselves? Or does politics transcend principles?

I don't understand politics. It all seems to be one big fuck up, one fiasco to the next with the majority of the country shaking their heads in disgust at it all. When I was younger I had thought that I might go into politics but after experiencing the shambles of Northern Ireland politics and now these notional and international farces I have progressively become more and more disillusioned with the idea. What is the point in trying to effect a change in politics when there's so many idiots about with more power than sense? At least philosophy still retains a certain potentiality and openings for change.

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new software

Just wanted to recommend some new new software called skype, it's an internet phone that works on the same type of p2p software as kazaa. The sound on it's clearer than a normal telephone and you can have up to 4 people in conference! It's currently in beta phase but it's shareware and it's being developed to call landlines as well as other computers. Anyway, handy if you need to contact anyone with a comp.

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stuck

Having slogged over Heidegger's 'Origin of the Work of Art' I am feeling that this pregnany has come to it's final term and the birth is overdue. I sit awaiting confirmation of an essay title and until confirmation arrives I am unable to fully excrete this excess of Heidegger that is littering my house. All other pathways are blocked until this one is finished with, and, while I grind my teeth in anticipation of this verbal explosion, Deleuze and Guattari's 'What is Philosophy?' twinkles on my bookshelf, luring me ever inwards but I have to resist!! Until such times as I can fully relieve myself of Heidegger, this shall be the extent of any pseudo-intelligent blogging:

Ode to Deleuze and Guattari

Guattari and Deleuze,
I want to read you.
But I have to read Heidegger,
What an aule fucker.

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New blogs added

Heronbone, courtesy of undercurrent. I sympathise with his re-reading of his blog and deciding that it's all shite. I have the same problem, I hate re-reading anything I've written. I always wonder what it was I was thinking that could possibly made me write that. But, I guess if we're going to write anything we just have to get on with it or we'll be stuck in a look of constant self-criticism. Anyway, heronbone's blog has wonderful commentaries on everything he sees. I like his outlook, it's somewhat singular which seems to be quite rare among the wider blogging world.

Also added infinite thought, whom I came across while using technorati during a late night blogging haze last night. The first female on my blogroll and understandable confusion over what to write in a blog. I'm not entirely sure... I hop between philosophy, rants and any other glue that pops into my mind. Nice quotes too, I need to start reading literature again, my own stash of quotes has vanished.

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Continuing with art

I have been distracted from my diatribe by Heidegger and consequently have spent the last few days reading him, as I should be doing, rather than random blog posts. In any case, I shall continue with my diatribe once this current burst of philosophical mindfullness has digressed once again into intense word loss. In reading Heidegger I'm finding words returning, but generally only on a Heideggerian level which excludes any normal form of social linguistic interaction. Anyway... that was just a note... here's my latest post.


I find something inherently masochistic within the pursuit of philosophy; a decisive pain in unravelling a myriad of concepts and trying to put them into some sort of context, a detachment and loss as with each thing you learn makes you feel that you have to know more, and yet, at the same time, an overwhelming joy of discovery, the pleasure in immersing yourself in the text of a philosopher, losing yourself in concepts and language and poetry in an overwhelming sense of wonder. And then there's those philosophers who throw you to the ground and kick you about so hard that you can't stop laughing and crying. The first for me was Nietzsche. After being pumped with Plato and Aristotle and Descartes and Hegel etc etc, Nietzsche opened up something new. The way he writes, the moods he invokes, the process of becoming, the eternal return. I don't think I would have the words to express just what it is that Nietzsche does. And then Deleuze (and of course his works with Guattari).... I read Anti-Oedipus while living alone in Prague and it completely stunned me. I'd never come across anything like it and I spent hours poring over the words trying to figure it all out. I still haven't, and maybe I never will but, to the rue of my lecturers (they think it's too hard), Deleuze, and D&G, make me smile.

And then Heidegger, the man of the moment. When I first came across Heidegger's notion of anxiety and nothingness I felt as though someone had gripped me about the throat and started strangling me. After my initial stupefication (which lasted a few weeks) I was still dazzled by his work, especially his later works when he takes on a more performative tone. However, I don't entirely agree with his ontology. I don't think that ontology is static, we are always involved in a process of becoming. If becoming is fixed as being then we lose much of what it is to be human. People are dynamic, changing, always adapting. It is rare for someone to look at themselves as a self, to say 'I am a self, I will always be this self.' We are social creatures, bound up in our environments and with other creatures. So Heidegger, however nice it would be to be Dasein, I don't think we are quite so stable.

In any case, onto what I wanted to talk about. This evening Herr Heidegger and I sat down to continue our discussion on art. This ties in with the discussion about art on the thread below and I always need to have a complete system wash out after having finished a text otherwise I will lose it.

I get all excited about paired words: form / matter, major / minor, molar / molecular, heterogeneous / homogenous etc etc. Heidegger gives us earth and world. If art instigates the strife between earth and world then contemporary art is sadly lacking. One of my favourite pieces of art is a piece by Jan Preisler entitled 'Winter.' I came across it while in Prague and although I wasn't too excited about the artist's other work, this piece grabbed me. Unfortunately I can't find it anywhere on the net and there's no books about it in the library so I simply have to recall it from memory. It portrays a shepherd boy in his world, with a flock of sheep behind him. It is painted in black and white. You can see that he is very much immersed in this world and yet there is a melancholia that lurks within his eyes, an awareness of the cold death that winter brings, of his grounding upon the earth. The earth obtrudes through the world, making itself very much present in all its self concealment. There is something within the picture that cannot be grasped, something that eludes us. Preisler has succeeded in disclosing a world and the strife that exists between it and the earth. The world is rested upon the ungraspable, sheltered by the earth to which it will eventually return. I spent a lot of time standing in front of this painting, it set forth a questioning, evoked emotion, brought me into a certain frame of mind; unsettling.

In contrast to this we have one of the works of British contemporary art. Tracy Emin's 'My Bed' portrays what it says, her bed. It is meant to be a testimony to her 'sluttish personality,' a treatise on who she is. There is an overabundance of world and not a hint of earth. There is nothing that obtrudes within this piece, nothing that draws us into questioning. If the work of art 'let's the earth be an earth,' then how can this be called a work when there is no earth present? Perhaps it might be argued that we are such cultural beings that we have no need for earth. But the world is grounded upon the earth, it cannot be disputed that we live upon the earth and that we take what we will from it. When I look out my window I see no sign of earth, I see buildings, roads, trees planted by man and street lights. Earth has vanished from the cities. Modern art has become a reflection of this condition, we rarely come across the self-secluding overwhelming-ness of earth and so art reflects only world; strife has been lost, and so the unfolding that occurs in the strife between earth and world is lost with it.

For Heidegger, art cannot be thought of as art without earth and world. They are bound in an endless struggle that constitutes the work-being of the work. If a 'work' does not contain this struggle then can it possibly be called a work anymore? A work without work-being is nothing more than an object.

Of course, it can be argued that there is no truth and so Heidegger must be wrong. Truth is created and destroyed through discourse and power, I would agree, truth fluxes and changes as much as being. However, truth thought as aletheia is an unconcealment, a bringing into presence of something that has long remained concealed. Preisler's piece discloses unfolds a truth, the truth of the melancholic world of the shepherd, the assuredness of a cold winter, the harshness of life. He reminds us that we live in an immanent world that is always there and always obtrudes. Or, as in Heidegger's example, Van Gogh's peasant shoes bring forth the world of the peasant woman, a world that always in struggle with the earth. There is a truth in that the truth consists in the harsh world of the peasant woman as it is true for her. In contrast Emin's work does little to remind us of anything. In looking at it I am not moved, I am not reminded of anything in particular except what it might look like in her bedroom.

Art today has become a reflection of the technicity of our age. It accepts the fact that we are cultural beings and stretches it into extreme concepts about the capitalist condition. A sculpture no longer unfolds from marble, colour no longer shines forth from a painting. What remains is an unmade bed that needs an artist’s statement to explain the concepts behind it. An artist's statement and title should never be necessary, the work should shine forth as a work. So many concepts, so little talent. An artist is not a philosopher. An artist should be able to create a work of beauty, sublimity, even horror; their skill should lie in perception, but it is rare to find an artist with the rigour of a philosopher. They should perceive truth and allow it be as it is; unspoken, unfolded from their creation. A painting should contain its own language and the artwork should elude interpretation.

What I love about 'The Origin of the Work of Art,' is that it reminds us of the potentiality that art has to open something up to us, to unconceal something, almost a form of magic. However it also reminds us of what has been lost. In its earliest stages art had the capacity to found worlds, in later stages it could disclose truths but now art seems to reflect the loss of wonder that is so apparent in late capitalism. Ideally art should be able to take us from capitalism, from our constant state of change, and place us in the reflection of its being so that the assimilation that capitalism does so well might be subverted. Standing in front of a great work has a magical quality to it, being drawn into it so that you are lost and what is left existing is something that shines so much that it occludes your sense of self. Art does not do that any more, all that we have left to us is assemblages of objects or colours that stand beside shiny white placards with generic fonts that quip about concepts and have no appeal except their price tags

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interlude

While at my friend's house I was randomly clicking with my new digital camera. the picture itself is rather un-aesthetically pleasing but I like the way the TV has fallen out of the screen. I'm not quite sure why it happened, I think that maybe I captured one of those moments when the TV leaves the screen and tries to slither its way inside people to make zombies. Have I inadvertantly uncovered one of the great conspiracies of our age?

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Diatribe of a 22 yr old

On this day, just before the anniversary of my birth I decided that rather than reflecting on what a good / bad year I had, I would make most a list of all the things that I hate most in the world, starting from mild dislike to burning, passionate, hatred; one for each year that I've been alive. It's very self indulgent but I think it's important that the world knows about such travesties that are occurring right under our very noses. I'm starting today but I don't know how long it will take me. Not too long I think as it's easy to write about stuff that pisses me off.

The countdown begins....

22)Winklepickers

Those pointy toed shoes that are currently in girl's fashion. I don't understand the aesthetic appeal of them, they remind me of something a court jester would wear and I'm wondering just when they will add little bells to they end and start doing a courtly jig about the streets. Also I had a Home Economics teacher who wore them and they looked like something she would pick her arse with. Not the most pleasant of things but that's what came to mind.

21) Self help books / prozac /welbutrin etc etc

So admittedly various mental illnesses are produced by the society that we live in. I'm not going to debate that, it would take days and much inquiry. There are people who are seriously mental ill and I have alot of sympathy for them. BUT, it seems like half the population has some problem that they need help with. And rather than just going 'okay, things are shit, but they'll get better, just gotta make a few changes,' they visit psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, get self help books, pump themselves full of pills. If you don't enjoy your job, get a new one. If you don't like your partner, get a new one. At least there's nothing serious wrong, at least you have all your limbs and your health and the capacity to make decisions. This would have been higher on the list but I can see some potential for scamming some cash. If I'm ever jobless I'll write a self help book and make some money. There will always be fools who will fall for it.

20) The girl with the same name as me, and her friends

The way I see it, ********* is not a particularly common name. In fact, I was under the delusion that I was the only ********** in the world. Unfortunately, I was proved wrong when one day a girl called ********* decided that I should be her friend. This ******** is *********@msn.com, from somewhere in America I think, she must be between the ages of 13 - 16 and she added me on msn. Then her friends added me, then they emailed me with chain letters about love and friendship. There's millions of them. I would tell them to leave me alone and they'd get annoyed because they thought I was the other girl. And I’d have to explain it to them, but some of them didn't quite grasp the concept. So they're all now blocked from my hotmail account. It was funny for a while but after the initial influx it got extremely annoying. Why don't people understand that having an identical name does not presuppose a friendship?

19) Variations on Coke i.e. Vanilla, lemon, diet, caffeine free

I am a whore to the coke industry and I get upset by these variations on coke. Especially when I'm in a shop and I pick up a can, thinking it's coke, and it ends up being vanilla coke. Shock waves run through my body when the taste of vanilla coke touches upon my tongue. It is one of the most vile tasting things ever conjured up by an industry. It tastes like cream soda mixed with coke... anyone who likes it must have seriously challenged taste buds.

18) Cocaine

Or Rich Man's Speed, which is a much better title for this insidious substance. Why on earth would anyone pay around £50 for something that makes you feel like you've just walked out of a dentist's office, transformed into an arrogant wanker who thinks that what you have to say is the MOST important thing on earth. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. People who I encounter while they are on coke tend to be complete twats, and yet they keep doing it, more and more, not realising that while they are feeling great everyone else is just thinking that they're making an arse out of themselves.

17) Sonia Jackson from Eastenders, and those with a similar gene pool i.e. Michelle McManus from Pop Idol, Sylvester Stallone, Elvis etc

There is a certain gene pool which makes me shudder. I think it stems from my dislike of Sonia from Eastender... I hate dealing with her wailing and moaning, "JAMIE, JAMIE!" My god girl, if I met you I'd give you a serious slap about the head (though she’s pretty butch so she’d probably take me in a fight). The others in the gene pool don't necessarily look exactly like her, but they definitely have similar genes. Michelle McManus for example, I don't care who voted for her, she's shite and when I see her on TV I want to stick my head in the toilet. Simon Cowell may be making a lot of money but he needs to stop unleashing such demons upon the world. I don't so much hate Sylvester Stallone and Elvis but I do cringe a little when I see their faces. There are a lot of people in that particular gene pool, it's interesting to keep an eye out for them.

16) Zoom Zoom Zoom Car ad / other annoying advertising jingle

Please stop... PLEASE STOP! They hurt my brain, they go around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and they never stop and they hurt and please please please stop... My ears bleed and my eyes bleed and high pitched noises screech in agony from my throat. Colours flash and I can see little devils running back and forth across my vision taunting me, tormenting me!!! You're killing me with these tunes.... please stop...

17) Celebrity Reality TV shows and their stars

To begin with I didn't really mind them, not paying much attention at all. Then they were everywhere...like an irritating sore that starts to fester gets spreads all over the nation. It seemed that everyone was obsessed with 'I'm a celebrity get me out of here!' 'Celebrity Big Brother,' and all the other farcical shows that popped up all over TV. Everywhere I looked there was one tabloid or another with Jordan, Jade, Alex Best, Nell McAndrew and other B-list celebrities. And then… the final dagger, slipped underneath my ribs to pierce my vaguely beating heart; Peter Andre's Mysterious Girl was in the charts. Don't people realise that it was crap the first time and the second time was just stupid, especially since it was the same song with the same video. It seems TV broadcasters are getting by just fine reusing the same formula over and over again.

16) List Shows

Continuing with the theme of TV reusing the same formula over and over again. List shows. Are people really entertained by them? Can they be called entertainment? For the last three years I have stumbled across Channel 4's greatest films of all time. They always have the same films, in almost exactly the same order. Couldn't they make it a phenomenon that occurs every 5 - 10 years instead? Then perhaps there might be something new to say and I wouldn't have to listen to Graham Norton's watery jokes. But that is only one of many list shows. We've had Britain’s best sitcom, Top 100 grossing Artists in the UK, Worst 100 songs of all time etc etc. Eventually they'll have enough list shows to have a list show called 'Top 100 List Shows.' If that happens I would seriously consider some sort of militant action against TV stations. (Oh the irony, a rant about list shows in a list. My head should be exploding about now).

15) David Blaine

Hey monkey boy, we don't want to see you stuck in a box over the Thames. You were incredibly boring. I would have more fun slowly extracting each of my toe nails with a match than watch you for any period of time. You're not a messiah, you're not a superman. You're just a silly little man who demands attention he doesn't deserve. Next time you're going to starve yourself for 40 days why don't you go talk to a hunger striker and stop belittling their actions. Idiot.

14) University Fine Art shows

Having been dragged along to various fine art shows I've discovered the crap quality of teaching in art departments (well, in Newcastle anyway). There are a few good pieces but in general they are terrible. I come across quotes from philosophers like Deleuze and Guattari and when I ask the artist about them they don't really know anything about D&G. They seem to be full of concepts that they don't understand. The most memorable installation was going into one of the rooms and it was painted white on all the walls (exactly the same as all the walls in the exhibition). I thought that there mustn't be an installation in that room but, quite shockingly, I discovered a sign that said 'Inside a White Cube.' The artist's statement was some glue about experiencing the absolute emptiness of the space, immersing yourself in the blankness. Later on I was told that the artist had painted two walls with gloss white and two walls with matt white. I think they were just lazy. Are people not taught how to paint anymore?



to be continued.......

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Since I just figured out how to add pictures....

The cover of my film, aptly named 'glueboot.'

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On a side note...

... the phrase at the top of my page kind've reminds me of a tampon advert. I can't decide whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe I'll do something about it.

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Enter the hippies.....

Newcastle Green Festival is coming up again and as usual I feel my hippie hatred rising. Rage wells up within me and I walk about Northumberland street with a permenant glare. But what is it about this certain social group that fills me with such rage? The hippie movement of the 60s certainly affected a change and fair play to them, those hippies are alright. Especially since I don't have to deal with them.

What makes me fume is the endless niavety, the constant discussions about 'spiritual journies' that come about through taking acid or mescaline. I was sat in the park one day, happily smoking cigarettes and reading and this hippie comes up and starts talking to me. He told me about these shamanic journies that he had while I started blankly at him, wanting to get up and leave. For a while after that he followed our group of friends about, showing up at parties and talking shite. He's vanished from the scene now, but where he has vanished more have come.

I have watched a friend of mine slowly disintegrate into the mentality of a hippie. Once the dread-locks went in I was worried but then he started talking about how everyone in the world should love eachother and I gave up.... I mean, seriously, what would be the fun of a world where everyone loved eachother. I get great pleasure out of my irrational hatreds. (Especially my hatred of Nicholas Cage.... how I hate that bastard).

Anyway, the WORST thing for me personally is when a hippie discovers that I study philosophy. I get cornered and bombarded with nonsense. Usually it starts off with something like "You study philosophy? I'm something of a philosopher myself." And then the talking starts. The most recent 'philosophical' insight that I've been offered was 'why does every corner have a point?' Apparently this is an extremely profound question that simply cannot be answered. Of course such statements simply get returned with a blank stare from me. When they ask for my opinion I tend to say that I don't have one.

After a few hours of listening to random bullshit the hippie will ask if they can come to my house to talk philosophy with me. They will usually have some sort of book in which they write their profound words of wisdom and they will want me to read it. I will have to come up with an excuse like 'I'm too busy at the moment,' or 'My cat's afraid of people.' But next time I am in town I will be hijacked with some new theory.

So, I will be avoiding the green festival like the plague.... with all it's juggling and poi and dreadlocks and arts and crafts and mescaline and acid and hippie bullshit.

If the green festival is meant to be about stopping pollution then stop polluting my ears with your shite..... fuckers....

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Feeling Networked

Well, I've been getting a bit more used to this blogging business. Newcastle provides little opportunity for anything interesting so it’s nice to find things going on out there on the WWW. In any case, I continue with my mission to try and create some sort of 'philosophical' discussion but my department is just too small and disjointed. Only two months before adventures begin anyway.

I've added some more blogs. I added sphaleotas, ,Software Subversions and k-punk. I came across Software Subversions and sphaleotas a while ago when I was trying to find stuff out about Warwick University. Sphaleotas doesn't update very often but I put him in anyway as I find the constant Nick Land bashing hilarious. Hopefully he'll start updating again. Software Subversions was in a motorbike accident so I hope he gets better soon, I like reading his stuff about Felix Guattari... also an interesting piece on the Matrix. K-punk's tirades on such things as pop music and Channel 4's 'best films ever' are definately worth a read, even though he hates 'Kill Bill.'

Anyway, that's enough linking to people for now. I've got some nonsense to update.

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shite actually

Haha! You see what I've done there? I've taken the name of a popular British film and changed the first word from love to shite. Kudos to me!

I have to say that my little play on words there is just as funny as the moments of 'Love Actually,' when the charismatic Hugh 'One Character' Grant slips the word 'actually' into his sentances with a slight inflection upon the word that reminds you that love, actually, is what the film is all about. Oh, how poignant and witty, a world dripping with hearts and flowers and comedy moments fit for all the family.

Is this what the British Film 'industry' has come to? I put industry in quotation marks as we haven't had a decent film industry ever since Hugh Grant became the stereotypical English character in 'Four Weddings and a Funeral,' which, I remember enjoying when it came out, though I think I was about 12 at the time. Anyway, I won't be starting a diatribe against Hugh Grant, not much point.

Love actually, is actually a pile of steaming shit straight from the arsehole of a St. Bernard with diarrhoea. Imagine how shocked I was to hear my ex-boyfriend (operative word being ex) rushing into the house, his eyes a blazing with excitement at the “best film I’ve ever seen.” That was the moment that induced me to download it, and now he will never, ever, live it down.

The various speeches about how much love there is in the world are sickenly patronising. According to the film, the best place to see how much people love each other is at the airport. There is no suggestion that perhaps if you go to a Church, or a hospital, or even a graveyard you might find love that, while not as overly joyous, is something enduring with absolute patience and that goes deeper than that moment of happiness when seeing a family member who you’ll be fighting with again in a few weeks time.

I’ve run out of words again….. if I find some I will continue this ‘critique,’ but if I don’t, be assured, that this film is NOT worth seeing.

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hibernation

I gave in. The moaning was too incessant so I started reading Heidegger again today. The problem is that I have a friend staying with me for a few weeks so she's coming in and out and I get interrupted a lot. Not a major problem since I love having her here but I tend to get a bit arsey when I'm studying. After a day spent exploring the relationship between earth and world I decided to go to see my friends. I stayed for about 10 minutes, had nothing to say and left. So I think that I'm going into hibernation until June so I can concentrate on working and so I don't offend people. I've already pissed off two of my friends tonight as I've been extremely blunt.

Now I'm back in the cave, drinking a bottle of wine and glaring at pictures that I drew of Heidegger's Greek Temple. What a way to spend a Friday night...

In other news... I've added a few more blogs to my blogroll, most notably undercurrent and irritant. I read all the blogs on my blogroll fairly regularly, they all have stuff to say and seem to be far more apt at commentary than me. Alas, such is the way of the world.... I'm doomed to drawings of partial objects and Nietzsche fucking a donkey.

Also added to links section is a link I got from undercurrent. Mr Agreeable has amusing commentaries of various things. Good for a read, I've been browsing the site for a while now.

On another note, Kris Marshall was on the Jonathan Ross show this evening. I was surprised that he is 31 and even more surprised at how boring he is. Seriously… Love Actually was a terrible movie. In fact, Love Actually was so shite it deserves it’s own post. So see above.

Anyway, not much else to say now. I'll apologise in advance if, over the next few weeks, my posts revert to philosophical gibberish. I tend to start bastardising concepts after a few days of solid study. I read some of my old posts in my old journal and they really are a load of shit, but since I get carried away with these things I get grandiloquent and pompous.... sorry.

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