So there I was lying in my B&b when I heard some darkened music playing down the hall way. I was instantly wondering what was going on, through the walls it sounded muffled to give it an even more eerie feel. I said to myself I know that theme music, how sad was I to know it. How sad was I to realise that what the next thing coming down the corridor was an unwanted guest, or so my imagination let me see it that way.
Just as the sun dropped over the the line casting the long shadows away and leaving not only a still summer warmth, the sky remained red in the tops of the clouds. I was reading some material in my room preparing to settle in for the night, it was 2230hours nigh on. After hearing through the walls the repeats of Law and Order Criminal Intent from the neighbours, well the music at least, it got me creeped out, no longer sounding like a bad version of Land of Hope and Glory (See for yourself(CI)). It didn't take long to start wondering what was going on. The B&b manager was still cutting his tiling in one of the bathrooms. Soon I heard the clatter, the front door bell went and all went silent for a moment before an extremely loud radio could be heard playing Moby Honey.
What was going on, you have to wonder some times. Through the walls I could here this music getting louder and all I could imagine was some strange scene out of Lethal Weapon 4 at the beginning, even though I was sure no one was coming to kill me with a flame thrower. The guy with the radio on his shoulder, the music keeping him happy as he came in gradually burning the place down like it was a game of chess (meanwhile listening to Moby: Find My Baby- which always sounds to me like burn my baby), planning moves to not get caught in the fire and yet twisted with the sun dropping it wouldn't take much to think of a modern American Western as he stalked back off with the radio playing on his shoulder holstering his propellent.
So there was all this curbuffle going on in the hotel as the radio got turned down and then off. Maybe I would finally get some sleep. Only the original TV program was still playing. There was only one thing for it. Replicate the sound with something equal (Pink Floyd: One of My Turns or Is There Anybody Out There), had all the background for Mrs Bancroft to scare the loud radio man. Unfortunately I had no courage to do it, the radio man wouldn't get the cynical joke.
I would only see the funny side of it, the clash of non-descript music which I had heard through the white walls, B&b styled basic furnishings, the eerie sounds of all of the above coming towards me had left me in this hollow cavern of 1980s, sunset going gone, cowboy radio man coming in to burn the B&b down before I could have escaped across the Channel to sanctuary. It's never been easy I said to myself. Working for The Invisible Force was never a game plan, a faction of the Intelligence Community. So I thought to myself this one time: I'll escape this lot and go undercover of my own soul (Paranoid Eyes), instead I'll stop looking back in the past and take a new look...
...I stepped out my door quick, grabbed the radio man's stereo changed the CD up to Moby: Why Does my Heart Feel So Bad? turned it up to full and walked on down the road with the sun glinting just enough off the sea edge. I made for the Channel, the boats were floating around in the distance. I decided to head for where I left a previously good life, some where to care about. No more of these mysterious factions, strange mirages of the past. I could live without all of you. A new life a new beginning, all that I needed now was someone to love, but that could wait. First I'd travel. I'd be the lone ranger walking in and walking out, holding my head up high and not caring who said what about who or what. I was going to escape and in full sight of everyone, yet under disguise. What a double meaning to the end of that life style.
Monday 19 July 2010
Tuesday 13 July 2010
History in Perspective?
The Lives of Others (2006), gives an interesting account of the GDR before it fell in 1990. I've been somewhat in thought and in question about what the recent history has meant. I've always been fascinated by the Cold War at both the large scale Superpowers side with MAD and that at a much more local scale and human nature, of what society was like working for the system, and acting as the shadows operating the system. Those agents who watched and listened to judge each others next step during the arms race. In context it comes down to political and social views at a broadened scale.
As WW2 ended so began the questioning doubt of the USSR and its role. The movement of capitalism versus communism began. Soon a divided state and nation formed leaving Germany in two halves. Meanwhile, the Berlin Wall became a very real part of the Iron Curtain which remained the border between the east and west cutting Europe in half no less. So a new era in the history of human turmoil began- but without turmoil (just about).
The effects of the 20th Century are still felt very real. In my recent sleepless periods The Forum from the BBC World Service has provided even more questions and thoughts surrounding the effects even now 20 years on. The changes and cultural identity can still be felt being bounced and reflected, soaked up and consolidated into a meaningful feeling. Getting society to feel able to talk of the past without being judged or saying non PC things as we may put it here.
The amount of literature in fact and fiction has become vast in the subject, true stories of the published and unpublished accounts become more available and the fiction stories of so many secret agents and intelligence communities. I do really wonder what it was like to live in that time period, what was it like for the people not working for the government? Will history tell me all I need to know?
As WW2 ended so began the questioning doubt of the USSR and its role. The movement of capitalism versus communism began. Soon a divided state and nation formed leaving Germany in two halves. Meanwhile, the Berlin Wall became a very real part of the Iron Curtain which remained the border between the east and west cutting Europe in half no less. So a new era in the history of human turmoil began- but without turmoil (just about).
The effects of the 20th Century are still felt very real. In my recent sleepless periods The Forum from the BBC World Service has provided even more questions and thoughts surrounding the effects even now 20 years on. The changes and cultural identity can still be felt being bounced and reflected, soaked up and consolidated into a meaningful feeling. Getting society to feel able to talk of the past without being judged or saying non PC things as we may put it here.
The amount of literature in fact and fiction has become vast in the subject, true stories of the published and unpublished accounts become more available and the fiction stories of so many secret agents and intelligence communities. I do really wonder what it was like to live in that time period, what was it like for the people not working for the government? Will history tell me all I need to know?
Wednesday 7 July 2010
The Emptiness
London 5pm. Raining like never before he thought to himself. It hasn't rained like this in ages. A constant barrage of the wet stuff lashing down on to the busy commuting rush hour home. From eight floors up people were like toys and cars like big presents, all running around without a care of the rain. But from eight floors up that was all that mattered, the wet had started to move in and the heat of the city could be drowned allowing a chance for some in-eventful changes to happen. London never ceased to move, day or night, wet or dry people thrashed there way across the roads, drove within inches of each other and burst on and off trains and buses. But from eight floors up that was a completely different world.
At eight floors up silence. Nothing, just the rain on the window and the thunderstorm off in the distance. Everything else was quiet, no hum of a fridge, not kettle boiling, no chatter of neighbours. In this flat was nothing more than a coffee table, dining table and a settee that converted into a bed. On the eighth floor the only thing which happened was watching. Here laid the chance for a completely hollow man to hide from everything and just let the world pass. The hustle of the streets could be forgotten and with the sun covered up the only worrying thing was if the hot cup of tea in the flask mug would be spilt.
Across the road on floor ten a completely different process was happening, they were watching a person in the flat on the eighth floor, quite some distance off through the binoculars they sat and took notes, trying to listen for anything from the bug in the ceiling. Nothing.
Back on the eighth floor, he tapped and rolled his empty mug across the dining room table. Absolutely nothing, void of all emotion, void of all presence you might argue. Completely out with the fairies. He didn't care about that, but the tea had to keep coming. He drank it all, gradually letting it cool, playing with the flask, whilst watching the the storm and the people, before eventually letting the flask roll off the table and roll across the room. His 15 by 10ft square, his own empty space for his own empty prison whilst he turned gradually into a child. For a man of 35 going on 70, he seemed well kept to the outside world, but on the inside he longed for his own thoughts his own ideas and ideals to make in life, just the way he wanted them. Not for him, all of his ideas and thoughts were somebody else's. A waiting game to see who would move first, the people across the road on the tenth floor or him.
He sat and waited and let the random music tunes he could remember from the outside wash over him whilst thinking about what to do next. He sat and thought, thought some more and couldn't make any conclusions because he couldn't remember where he began, so he just sat and watched and kept going back to where he began, the flask of tea...and spotted some people in the tenth floor or so he thought. He couldn't remember seeing anyone there before, but the rain was good. So he went back to watching the commuters living busy lives, but he couldn't think of why he would want to be out there, all those sharks waiting to get him. He just wanted to hide from them all, burnt out of energy and what seemed to be a fast declining acknowledgement of the world around him. He felt no connection to anything, just the emptiness of everything. He knew he was meant to know and feel things, but he couldn't place his finger on it, so instead he allowed himself to work back into the regressive stages, before long he would be completely blank.
At eight floors up silence. Nothing, just the rain on the window and the thunderstorm off in the distance. Everything else was quiet, no hum of a fridge, not kettle boiling, no chatter of neighbours. In this flat was nothing more than a coffee table, dining table and a settee that converted into a bed. On the eighth floor the only thing which happened was watching. Here laid the chance for a completely hollow man to hide from everything and just let the world pass. The hustle of the streets could be forgotten and with the sun covered up the only worrying thing was if the hot cup of tea in the flask mug would be spilt.
Across the road on floor ten a completely different process was happening, they were watching a person in the flat on the eighth floor, quite some distance off through the binoculars they sat and took notes, trying to listen for anything from the bug in the ceiling. Nothing.
Back on the eighth floor, he tapped and rolled his empty mug across the dining room table. Absolutely nothing, void of all emotion, void of all presence you might argue. Completely out with the fairies. He didn't care about that, but the tea had to keep coming. He drank it all, gradually letting it cool, playing with the flask, whilst watching the the storm and the people, before eventually letting the flask roll off the table and roll across the room. His 15 by 10ft square, his own empty space for his own empty prison whilst he turned gradually into a child. For a man of 35 going on 70, he seemed well kept to the outside world, but on the inside he longed for his own thoughts his own ideas and ideals to make in life, just the way he wanted them. Not for him, all of his ideas and thoughts were somebody else's. A waiting game to see who would move first, the people across the road on the tenth floor or him.
He sat and waited and let the random music tunes he could remember from the outside wash over him whilst thinking about what to do next. He sat and thought, thought some more and couldn't make any conclusions because he couldn't remember where he began, so he just sat and watched and kept going back to where he began, the flask of tea...and spotted some people in the tenth floor or so he thought. He couldn't remember seeing anyone there before, but the rain was good. So he went back to watching the commuters living busy lives, but he couldn't think of why he would want to be out there, all those sharks waiting to get him. He just wanted to hide from them all, burnt out of energy and what seemed to be a fast declining acknowledgement of the world around him. He felt no connection to anything, just the emptiness of everything. He knew he was meant to know and feel things, but he couldn't place his finger on it, so instead he allowed himself to work back into the regressive stages, before long he would be completely blank.
Tuesday 6 July 2010
The Music is Talking
Insomnia has taken hold, I can't sleep more than a few hours and now I have noticed that many pieces of music I thought I knew, particularly some recent classical stuff isn't quite what I thought it was.
I've muddled up some Karl Jenkins - Requiem with some music played by an Orchestral band who rewrites some rather heavy rock stuff from Germany. Only it turns out neither is it used by Karl Jenkins or the Orchestral band. I think its because the chords and timing is so similar with the chamber section that I found the similarity. It makes me wonder if anyone copied the music idea as the similarity begins with the film Insomnia (2002) of all places. The Orchestral music only came out a few months ago. Weirder still, Insomnia (2002) in itself is a remake of the Norwegian film version (1997). And I am suffering from way too little sleep as I try to piece this all together.
Picture from the Mark Hess Collection
I've muddled up some Karl Jenkins - Requiem with some music played by an Orchestral band who rewrites some rather heavy rock stuff from Germany. Only it turns out neither is it used by Karl Jenkins or the Orchestral band. I think its because the chords and timing is so similar with the chamber section that I found the similarity. It makes me wonder if anyone copied the music idea as the similarity begins with the film Insomnia (2002) of all places. The Orchestral music only came out a few months ago. Weirder still, Insomnia (2002) in itself is a remake of the Norwegian film version (1997). And I am suffering from way too little sleep as I try to piece this all together.
Picture from the Mark Hess CollectionMonday 5 July 2010
What's the point any more? - Questions for the disillusioned
The Plank Telescope view of the GalaxyI have too many questions, thoughts, puzzles, facts and illogical details all whizzing around and becoming connected with each other. So I reflect and find it helps at times, however not always as those may take note by my last blog which isn't the best posting.
And so I have endless questions I regularly ask and get asked:
Why are we here?
What comes after Earth?
Who made the stuff outside the universe?
Why do we have nightmares?
Why is everything a blur?
What happened to the focus? I'm sure I use to be better than this...
Who decided to turn out the light and leave us alone?
Why can't we be given hugs as adults? Children get them all the time.
What do you want from me?
Why can't I see the wood for the tree's?
What's the telephone number and address to...?
Can't I just have a peaceful day where I'm happy?
What's the point in living if you don't feel alive?
Why did God leave me?
Who are you?
I just wanted to help, was that so bad?
Why do you always grumble at me, can't I just help?
Can I please have my pen back?
Why are you ignoring me?
Why is it always so noisy?
If I'm talking to you, why can't anyone else see you - what's wrong with me?
Everyone gives me strange looks, can you help me?
It makes perfect sense, what's wrong with you?
Was it something I said?
Did I get to close?
What were you looking for exactly?
Can I just hide away?
Don't ask, I don't understand, what are you getting at?
If X=Y, what does x and x mean?
Is there really hope or is it just nonsense?
Why can't we all just get along?
Who did you want again?
Why do you always look at me like that?
Do you have to do that?
Do you ever understand my jokes?
What are you waiting for?
Can't I just be happy for once?
Why does it hurt?
Why do you care?
Is that really what you mean?
Are you feeling OK?
What's going on?
What is the point exactly?
Did you have to say that?
Is this really what you want?
Am I really of any use?
Why are we just going round in circles?
Sunday 4 July 2010
States of Mind
In recent times it has apparent that the past says quite a lot about what the present, but how much does it say about the future?
Current times you see are looking back at what has happened and what needs to happen. It sounds a bit too philosophical, but what the mind sees and what we like to see are two different stories, what is outside and what is inside are never as straight forward as we like to believe. Its as strange as Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean saying "Up is Down". Well if you've seen the films you'll get the point straight away, everything is not always as it seems and everything always has more than one reason to be in existence. So why am I blabbering on like this you wonder?
My flat mate moved out Friday night, the neighbours are all moving (one of the things of living in private halls) and most of student Ville in Manchester moved out a long time ago just after the exams. So I spent a bit of Friday night talking to one of the night staff until 2am and I even got to try some of his really good rice and yogurt with the hot chilli mixed in (a bit too hot for me!). Mid night snacks are the best at the right moment, and this was certainly one of them.
--Warm evening, dry, remembering those events that have come by and gone again. Life moves on after all and we all move on. How quickly we can and for what reason is a whole other question.
So in the midst of this conversation over hot spicy rice, I started looking back on the year, which was fair enough. However, I suddenly realised I was in a very similar position to that not so long ago. In fact the exact opposite position, I was now on the inside looking out, not on the outside looking in. The fact of the matter is, whilst sat there I was the person sitting and eating with Ahmed having a good late night chat, with students wandering past saying hello and night night, when it was only last time I was at university I was in the exact opposite place. It was an old friend of mine (Miss B) who did do that exact same thing as a student warden. Bless her cotton socks she was really good at it too. I would wonder why does she do this, why doesn't she ever stop working and when can I drag you away from work and have some social time with you? Only the obvious answer in the end was, never. And an unfortunate bowing out and parting of the ways soon became very real with those loved and lost. It just so happens I keep in touch in passing. However, I now see a new version of what was going on back then. Except its completely different to saying "try putting yourself in my shoes", because when your thinking about what it would be like in there shoes and when you are suddenly in those shoes, the reactions, expectations, causes, returns and feedback all changes.
Current times you see are looking back at what has happened and what needs to happen. It sounds a bit too philosophical, but what the mind sees and what we like to see are two different stories, what is outside and what is inside are never as straight forward as we like to believe. Its as strange as Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean saying "Up is Down". Well if you've seen the films you'll get the point straight away, everything is not always as it seems and everything always has more than one reason to be in existence. So why am I blabbering on like this you wonder?
My flat mate moved out Friday night, the neighbours are all moving (one of the things of living in private halls) and most of student Ville in Manchester moved out a long time ago just after the exams. So I spent a bit of Friday night talking to one of the night staff until 2am and I even got to try some of his really good rice and yogurt with the hot chilli mixed in (a bit too hot for me!). Mid night snacks are the best at the right moment, and this was certainly one of them.
--Warm evening, dry, remembering those events that have come by and gone again. Life moves on after all and we all move on. How quickly we can and for what reason is a whole other question.
So in the midst of this conversation over hot spicy rice, I started looking back on the year, which was fair enough. However, I suddenly realised I was in a very similar position to that not so long ago. In fact the exact opposite position, I was now on the inside looking out, not on the outside looking in. The fact of the matter is, whilst sat there I was the person sitting and eating with Ahmed having a good late night chat, with students wandering past saying hello and night night, when it was only last time I was at university I was in the exact opposite place. It was an old friend of mine (Miss B) who did do that exact same thing as a student warden. Bless her cotton socks she was really good at it too. I would wonder why does she do this, why doesn't she ever stop working and when can I drag you away from work and have some social time with you? Only the obvious answer in the end was, never. And an unfortunate bowing out and parting of the ways soon became very real with those loved and lost. It just so happens I keep in touch in passing. However, I now see a new version of what was going on back then. Except its completely different to saying "try putting yourself in my shoes", because when your thinking about what it would be like in there shoes and when you are suddenly in those shoes, the reactions, expectations, causes, returns and feedback all changes.
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It's turning Theory into Practice
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It's turning Theory into Practice
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So in all this time on Friday night I'm thinking about the good times and bad times during the past and I'm also transported back into my own little mess. Why things could have gone so much better back then, if only...why we couldn't be different, why was I so awkward back then, if only I'd done this and that differently. But it's one thing reminiscing it's another sorting out those issues.
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Can it all be forgiven?
Can it all be forgiven?
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Well who knows? I personally like to forget everything in the past. In fact it's become very automatic to the point that I've started forgetting things I need to remember specific details I should know e.g. for my coursework and birthdays. Its very annoying to not be able to remember every detail I need from a journal article. It's parrot fashion revision that's needed. Meanwhile, I know from too much experience that if anybody from the past does reappear I actually have a lot of frightening motions to go through. Like I said what's on the outside is not necessarily on the inside. After all I can't tell if I am me any more. If any of my classmates realised how soppy I really am away from the work they'd probably think I'm a different person.
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Is it just another cold war?
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Is it just another cold war?
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We really shouldn't feud over the most smallest of details, but at the end of the day we spend our lives second guessing everyone in case they say what if, but what about that and well I thought. So in time as we get older and mature, we'll know how to handle these situations. But I for one am not willing to let these situations even start again, even with the agony of being very alone, I'd much prefer to be alone for the rest of my time than find I've got a cold war with some other person or group along the way. For all that seems to be happening is more cold wars. Putting out fires seems hard enough at times, and the smallest of infractions means I have to remain totally perfect, perfection is not possible and yet required- no wonder I'm in agony, one false step and the whole place crumbles around me. Having said this, once I'm gone everything runs on smoothly as it is and I know I'm not needed when I'm around so why do I have to be perfect in the first place? Why do I have to be like everyone else and why don't people like seeing things from my perspective?
Life moves on but our thoughts trade constantly (High Hopes). Am I right in thinking "Me Myself and Irene" has a slightly ambiguous similarity to this self patronising stuff? Oh well, in the end, you can ran but you can't hide.
Life moves on but our thoughts trade constantly (High Hopes). Am I right in thinking "Me Myself and Irene" has a slightly ambiguous similarity to this self patronising stuff? Oh well, in the end, you can ran but you can't hide.
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All I want to do is escape this monstrosity
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I guess "the future's bright, the future's Orange"
How many usable quotes can I fit on this article in one fell swoop. Along with the sarcasm and cynicism. It will work out one day. All you got to do is remain positive.
Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise, run in the shadows, damn your love and damn your lies. (FleetWood Mac, The Chain)How many usable quotes can I fit on this article in one fell swoop. Along with the sarcasm and cynicism. It will work out one day. All you got to do is remain positive.
"I never started this mess, it just came with me."
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