Monday 30 August 2010

Northern Englands Inspiration: Manchunian's

Be aware this does contain graphic innuendo

Yesterday I left Manchester Piccadilly train station for London. It's the bank holiday weekend, Sunday 29th August 2010 every engineering feature was being worked on. When I left London Euston in the evening and had to take the slow train back I was tired, but my journey which began as the Virgin Trains London Euston to Crewe at 1843 with my change over in Stoke for Manchester Piccadilly's arrival at 2331 left me in no doubt, a story had to be created...

The journey that left Euston at 1843 was quiet. Little really was happening all the way up as we passed through the Chilterns to Oxford and crossed back again for Coventry, slow chugging our way through the countryside. The sun setting gradually as we slowly meandered north. At Coventry all was fine, arriving at 2130 some people got off: teenagers playing music on their iphone or ipod. The child with his mother carried on running up and down the carriage whilst I read my book attempting to ignore this energised human. He was only six, I just hoped he ran out of energy sooner rather than later.

We carried on north up through Tamworth and on to Stoke, the child had gradually quieten-d down, but I got off at 2230 hours and waited the nine minutes for the 2239 local train to Manchester Piccadilly. The train hadn't yet arrived and was to pull into platform three. For all I knew the way the place looked it could have been a scene out of Harry Potter. Something smelled wrong, something looked wrong. I had stopped at Stoke to change on my way down, but the darkness of night was playing tricks on my mind. Was I sure I was seeing and hearing what my brain was telling me? I was not anaesthetised by any substances, but I clearly could feel something different. I wandered between platform 2 and 3, a cyclist came up and waited, I tried to stand still and watch the world go by, but the cold chill in the air was starting to bite, I wrapped my self up completely. "Dam no gloves", put your hands in your pockets.

At Stoke-On-Trent there was no more than a half dozen people waiting for a train. Two young girls waited around on the platform opposite, the station manager looked bleakly across the tracks at them trying to huddle up and keep warm. The cyclist stood macho with his bike propped against him studying the non existent car park that existed through the blackened night across platform 3. The air was getting heavy, the few lights leaving shadows across the platforms and rails. The Pendalino hook up showed evaporation rising gradually from the lamp heat. It must have rained, but didn't smell of rain just bad hot chocolate.

That's because I could still taste the hot chocolate I had bought from my previous train. On boarding the 2239 to Manchester Piccadilly the whole train smelt bad, it also looked bad, no where to sit the party's had left enough rubbish, the stale coffee's and teas and the opened window attempting to vent the stench of an unclean train loo turned the air against my lungs. I sat and began to read and hope no one else would get on board.

I was wrong, we didn't have three stops, the usual, Macclesfield, Stockport and Manchester Piccadilly. We had seven or eight. All was fine, the cyclist leisurely bored and asleep, me reading in the same carriage. And then at Macclesfield a party got on board. For half an hour, the teenagers sang chants on 'Manchester is the best' in football rhythms, 'Manchester has got it all'. The boys and girls drunk and attempting to get up to the night clubs in the city centre. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, they wanted more than just singing, through the length of the cabin they started chanting/poorly singing sexual connotations for all to bare all. Everyone joined in as the ring leader dared himself:

'Show us your n**' came the chant in football hoots from the group.

Unaware of whether this went through or not, a soon response was replied by the boys 'show us your g***'. The alcohol had certainly taken its toll on them and thank god I couldn't see any of it.

At Poynton Rail, three boys got on board, a separate state of affairs. Except they had even ruder 'jokes' of a sexual nature including: "Weekend Defender". With the dress sense of a ant for a night out and the not so obvious joke said, I burned my memory attempting to work out what it was all about. Suddenly I remembered the advertised material across the city

"The Gay Pride March: August Bank Holiday Weekend". Every creep was out tonight and I had to go via it to get home.

The train journey continued north to Stockport as the three boys opened yet another can of beer and left the empty on the floor to spill over. The group of boys and girls chanting more and more. Was the cyclist and I the only two sober and non confrontational on board? I knew I was being watched, heads turned. How many people travelled that late reading a book, how many travelled looking like death could strike at any moment?

Stoke had been fine, just eerily dark the train journey though showed nothing more than excessive drinkers on the bend (excuse the pun). Getting off the train was no joyous attempt, like fresh meat of cattle to a slaughter house the drunken boys laid themselves up, all three of them attempting to believe they were straight, but all three knew where they were going. The group of boys and girls carried on out chanting 'Manchester, Manchester, Manchester, it has only got one end', 'Manchester is the best', 'Manchester has got it all'. Whilst the boys summed up posh Manchester as a place for 'her and her all nighters'. A comment on one of the girls previous nights out.

Grateful to get off the train and go back to a normal part of town, many people watched as I frog marched my cold body down to Fallowfield. Every queer in sight eyeing up their potential, with passing comments of:

'Would you like to come round the corner mate'
'Like a bit of wiped cream'
'Give's a bit mate'

Stone sharpened I stared them out as I caught them looking on in earnest for "fresh meat"

'you try me I'll make sure your screwed for life, screwed six foot under more like'

they all walked drunkenly to their party, dragging there sorry asses up the hill. I've met the bully's, weirdo's, freak's and many other people, but why is it I always get the dodgy comments. What so wrong with leaving a member of the public alone who isn't even thinking of going out anywhere.

I knew something was up when I got to Stoke, a different way of life. The liberal north, too liberal? Or just binge drinkers looking to get whatever they can. They say its only prisoners who get whatever they can how ever they can, "don't drop the soap", but up north, no rules barred it happens in public too. It happens in tasteless fashion.

"Welcome to Manchester, you have now entered a liberal free market of perverts."

Wednesday 25 August 2010

Photographs: Inspiring concepts and ideals.

Lambourn Stables, Berkshire

The photo above was taken in February 2009. At the time I was unsure of where I would be next I was hoping to come to Manchester for my Masters course. Today, I handed in my 7500 word dissertation on water quality. This means I am now free from university again, I am unfortunately back on the road of job hunting, I have been looking but to no avail.

The reason for this picture was because this was the first large snow fall, the second being last winter in December 2009. In my state of mood swings and job hunting I go out and attempt to formulate plans and get inspiration from the environment. However, I have packed most of my belongings off to family, which means whilst I still have ten days in Manchester and I want to wander around with the camera, I cannot. Maybe I shall buy a disposable one and attempt to see what I can do with it. Photograph some urban areas in Manchester...see what comes out, visit the art gallery on Walls are Talking: Wallpaper, Art and Culture before it closes. It intrigues me because it's a play on words from "Walls Have Ears", the old WW2 spy idiom.

I have a 35mm, Kodak 200 to develop yet, hope it hasn't degraded in the years I've owned the role and now the length of time its sat waiting to be developed. I used to know someone who developed his own film, I wonder how hard it really is, is it worth the while. Meanwhile I guess I'll have to rely on a shop for it. Most of my photos are digital these days, but sometimes, I like to escape fully and handle a manual once in a while, apply some pressure to the moment.

P.s.There's been some excellent photos of the Perseid Meteor shower this year.

Sunday 22 August 2010

"Alone We Stand Together"

Cancun, Mexico

Alone in this precipice,
Darkened Nights of terror,
And Days of misery,
Day by day and night by night we wander
Waiting for a brighter happier future.

Alone in this forsaken trash filled place
Darkened nights bring stars so bright,
For days of happiness quietly blow over,
Forgotten waiting of a journey, to a land not far from here.

Showering gloom and hot burning days,
Vented cold and dried burnt nights,
Seething air of misfortune hold little hope,
But air comes with misgivings of another front.

Hot coals sizzle under cold ice,
Alone the mischievous herald their power,
Together a future where all remain plain, but
Joyful, laughable slenderness of togetherness,
No room for the individual, only the brethren
Of family and groups, lost in place and lost in time.

Darkened Days and darkened Nights,
Filled with meteors filling up our light,
Where togetherness is everything but really,
Alone we remain,
Under a cloud of 'rain' in the night of meteor showers.

Alone we stand Together.

Skopje, Macedonia

Pictures from Perseid Meteor Shower from around the world
BBC News In Pictures

The Last Stand?

The Last Stand for our trees: The Decline of the English Elm Tree
Here you can read on the current fight of the Dutch Elm's Disease by Mark Seddon (BBC). Full news publishing will occur on the 24th August 2010.
You can also read and listen to Carol Ann Duffy reading her poem: The English Elm.

Some details are also available by the Daily Telegraph, whilst The Independent talks of schools helping reduce the issue.

Picture from The Independent Newspaper

Saturday 21 August 2010

Of Inspiration and men plus one bear.

Seeing as you have mentioned the word earlier in the week.
Given, that I have found so many bleeding hearts recently.
I intend to write on inspiration.
There is nothing in the air.
There is a lack of inspiration around here.
I declare the word of the week to be inspiration.

Fools gold is found too rare.
Mild stares in fine lines through knotted crystal and shapeless pears.
No gift too short, a horses foot too long.
There is no inspiration to be found here.
Just another day in the wild filed* brown bear day.

*filled

Friday 20 August 2010

All I want to do is...stop

This morning I was reading through my many words that hold my dissertation together, editing, checking and sorting out the spelling, grammar and punctuation. I was meant to write loads more, but it seemed to take most of the day to tidy what I currently have.

So there I was, the next thing I know I'm humming away to myself. With a musical background from years gone by, I can still listen to random odd bits of tune and extrapolate something. Today I was humming from a ring tone which turned into a delicate classical guitar rift. This is quite rare for me as I'm a brass player by nature, Jazz and classical is what I know, whilst I do listen to other stuff, so humming something for guitar was an all together new feeling.

With all this angst about what I'll be doing in the next couple of weeks, I'm wondering when I'll be able to get back to playing music. Most likely when I have my own place. Cycling wise similarly, when I finally settle.

There's still a lot to do in the next couple of weeks, the course is under control, its what's happening after my course. I officially have 15 days to find myself a job and a place to live or else. I've already done the going back home from university to family once before, I really don't to do it if I have to. It's actually making me feel depressed.

I looked around for jobs, and I keep my ears open for them. But the markets gotten tough again. It's really quite worrying. Further still, getting in to the environment sector is very hard indeed, in fact I'm wondering if I actually own a pair and can hold my weight, this year has been so hard, all I want to do is hide away, sleep and keep warm. That holiday I am not deserving is still calling, basically I'm burnt out and need a rest. Except as the saying goes

Theirs no rest for the wicked


Tuesday 17 August 2010

Where am I going, exactly :-S (2)

As I was saying before, I feel like I may have lost the plot somewhere.

In good heart and kindness I point you to the article here by Rebecca Bush (12/12/2008):
Just A Thought: The Prince of Darkness or How I've Spent The Last Three Months

This article along with some of the things written by Kristie in recent weeks have certainly stirred the water a bit. Knowing there are people in similar positions or writing stories and poems of the issues I struggle to convey to you makes it seem a lot better.

Unfortunately, this leaves me with a dilemma:
1. I have certainly become a very boring person of late, and I will only become more boring as I struggle to find work and start my own life.
2. I find my feelings through connections made over the internet more and more.
3a. I know this is not right, connections made through the internet are not necessarily as strong as those found by actual contact with a real person. Technology has taken over. I don't like it, but I have to live with it, I have to move with society or be forced to completely disappear and full behind.
3b. This is made worst by the fact I leave you with this evidence via the perils of late night BBC World Service

American Professor Nancy Baym says that at times of rapid technological change, questions such as what counts as authentic human connections (sic) are called into question. She explains that in discussing how these new forms of digital communication media affect the relationships that we have with each other, we are actually having age old discussions about human connections. The Forum (15/08/2010)

Illustration by Graeme Davis

I can't even gather well developed evidence, its from scientists in discussion on a radio program, which due to the way the BBC works will expire in five days and the evidence will be gone.

It's all so plain, its become another shade of grey. I feel like science is just gathering information in order to make more information without actually doing anything about it, it's not helping, academia lives one lifestyle and the world of work is living another, neither are talking to each other, evidence is potentially being duplicated and research is just being done for the hell of it.
Paris (2008) shows an interesting perspective of this as one of its themes shows a lost lecturer wanting to find a new route in life.

I suddenly feel the cold coming in, for some reason it reminds me of a period just before Christmas 2009, I was listening to Sting's If on A Winter's Night, the hollowness, dreary, cold...lack of soul.

Where am I going, exactly :-S (1)

There I've said it, the quest to find the next step, the elephant in the room you might argue. How cuddly that elephant is, not. This isn't a game, this isn't guess work, although I so feel I could guess and come up better than sitting around thinking.

I've lost my spark. I'm hopelessly struggling to get my ideas together on just about anything and everything. From the virtues of my subject between the areas I like and would prefer to ignore because I will never understand them, to the general day to day tasks, I can't think straight. I'm losing my marbles one by one I swear.

The energy required to get through to the end of my Masters at University has sucked all the energy away from me. I never particularly felt a need for a holiday until now, I never felt I deserved one and I still don't think I deserve one for the energy I do require is no longer their. Motivation as ever is key, but this is not enough. An interest, people interested would also help, but I've got this sinking feeling back again. I'm about to close and let the world chuck me out and forget I existed.

I think I may be going slightly mad I'm not sure, but I am most certainly lost in my own little world more. My struggle to write my dissertation comes from a lack of knowledge, its not quite ended yet, binding to commence in just short of two weeks and I'm not convinced I understand the topic fully yet. I have a system which lets me work and this Masters course has stopped me from doing it mainly because quantity of material we have covered this year and a relentless and ruthless pace hasn't allowed me to study in my optimum pattern. So I've taken short cuts so that I can keep up with the task at hand and lectures accordingly, but its also cost me my knowledge.

My system as developed and adapted through the years from the help of school teachers and lecturers. Many thanks for this system goes to Mrs Haywood (Maiden: Lowe), Mr Bromley and Mr Peto of Ewell Castle School and Dr. C. Young of Canterbury Christ Church University, and many others in the private sector for checking my abilities.

A. Patterns for Days
1. Arising early and getting a good nights sleep,
2. The working day starts early and therefore ends early. 0800-1600 hours
3. The a short break having arrived home from the working day (30minutes or so)
4. Homework after short break commences and either ends or pauses for dinner at 1800 hours
5. After dinner prepare for the next day by making the lunch box and packing the bag, complete any outstanding homework
6. Have the rest of the evening off
7. Get to bed by 2230hours.

B. Consistent Working Patterns
1. Make careful notes on everything you read
2. Revise notes on a regular basis (preferably weekly)
3. (As Homework or best point after session in the day) After making notes in the day, go back through them and write down anything that you did not write in the session, ideas and examples that were not written from time constraints in the session (mainly for lecture notes: identify areas that need reading and place markers in relation to the topic from previous notes and lectures).
4. Practice writing for exam papers, presentations, essays and articles. Comparing articles and arguments, writing abstracts for summary notes and memorising information. E.g. With references: Author, year and aim in relation to your topic.

C: Checking notes
1. SPaG: This stands for Spelling Punctuation and Grammar
2. Read your work five times, check you've answered the question, carry out a consistency test on your thoughts, perform SPAG.
3. Review work handed back in and adjust based on feedback, comment on your own work - do you agree with the comments given? What can you do to improve your work, marks or otherwise?

D. Don't forget to relax
1. Find a social group or sport you can enjoy to take time away from the subject, come back fresh and revitalised later.
2. Don't stay up late and don't drink, you will only feel worse the next day.

Sunday 8 August 2010

Wildly Insane: wilderness and man

I've been listening to an old radio program about Gavin Maxwell and his life. Many of you will know he wrote the book Ring of Bright Water and not so many of you will realise what a socially secluded life he really did lead. Radio 4's In the Ring of Bright Water presented by Terry Nutkins.

I only new the name of Gavin Maxwell, I was actually more interested in Terry Nutkins, I recall him from different Wildlife Programs and activities in the 1990s. I hadn't a clue about the way these two completely different -and yet similar people in certain ways on reflection- lived. It's to do with the lifestyle they tried to have. Set in the furthest reaches, bleakness and open landscape that Britain can hold cut off on an island and only surrounded by animals.

Its said that Gavin Maxwell suffered in his youth and never truly stopped being a child in many ways and so enjoyed the solitude. Then there is Terry Nutkins who finally after living with Gavin in his childhood decided the area was so beautiful and reminded him of the past he went back to live at another property on the Island. Only a curse is said to have been put on Gavin Maxwell for the suffering of Kathleen Maxwell had, 'causing' his death.

Sobering most certainly, but as environmentally interested as we all are, is there a boundary we should keep? I get the impression that living in complete wilderness will send you mad. That's 'mad' in the terminology of the 19th Century, when no one understood psychological illness. Harken back to the days, are we as environmentally interested people to be doomed if we close the doors to the rest of human society? It seems there is a certain trait which exists in some environmentally interested people. Yet, doctors used to say things like he needs to have a break from life, for mental breakdowns I recommend spending sometime in the country or to that effect.

Now with so much development in mental health can these issues carry on happening, is the environment a cause or effect of madness. For those of us who like the outdoors are we doomed to some form of insanity or is it the effect of being out there so much. Come 2050-2060 when dementia has risen I wonder what life will be like.

Thursday 5 August 2010

Something in the Game

I saw this, the move of paint-balling and Laser Quest turns to real life soaking of Water Pistol Games.

This brings a new meaning to street warfare and keeping yourself undercover
The thrill is in the chase I guess

Liao Yutai: Moustache Commander

Wednesday 4 August 2010

Photos of Old




I was reminded of these photos today. Which one's better? I have a whole stash from trying to create the mood I wanted. I always thought the first and last one were the best.

Porlock August 2008: Was it really all that time ago? Which reminds me I wrote my car off soon after.
Judas H Priest man

(Always a familiar term used by Lt. Howard Hunter, Hill Street Blues 1981-1987, also frequented by people wanting to blasphemy without blasphemy.)

Tuesday 3 August 2010

Playing Games?

"Run, cause once upon a time an antidote existed, but now... who cares". I don't like childish pranks, games that make everyone laugh at someone else's expense that might hurt them, or people who think they know who you are just by glancing at you. They rub me the wrong way. Its been a ridiculously painful day. Attempting to get the final assignment of 7500 words done, made almost homeless by the institution we live in because contracts expire and family options lack. Where do we go from here? Well who knows, trying to make the jump from university to the real world all in one is no easy feat.

Not only do you need a job, a stable income, but a place to live, a way of looking after all your belongings -

"call your local box storage company sir" -

and a way of keeping in touch with all those friends you've made over the years only to find that at the end of the day there is nothing. As always the way what plans were started are crushed, ideas mutated and dreams squashed completely into the distance. No chance of retrieval, no options for the next stage and a lacking chance for the remaining contactable. No wonder there's a sudden bout of depression coming on.

I found it annoyingly true, I said to myself, don't pack the CBT stuff up you'll need that. But I packed everything and shipped it to temporary family space - it will have to come back pretty quick, if I can find some where - only to now realise I would prefer to have my hands on it as the deepened worries, drained hours of energy take hold and make all possible sense of what to do and how to manage turn into a heap. The amount of energy I've exhausted, I don't want to play any more, who decided I was meant to be doing this anyway. Once away from university the academic world will disappear, nonsense will take over and the powerhouse of keeping thoughts going which has only gotten worse as energy reduces will once again be sent to some part of the brain that recalls it as 'the past'. You have to wonder why I bother doing anything, can't get a soul to provide enough adequate discussion on my subject - was insulted today as usual -

"you should know that you're a geographer -

my response kept to myself 'it doesn't mean I know everything, or can recall everything', along with a few further derogatory remarks. This is the problem today I find, technology is now evading me, children (half my age no less) are telling me the best way forward, wonderful no it alls are splurging information like they eat books for lunch, recall information to the exact point and page. I find my thoughts absolutely undermined, no one takes what I think in to consideration any more, I'm no idiot but everyone brushes past because I cant' recall simple useful information, its now all in there iphone apps or ready to hand by the nearest nerd. So you have to ask if everything is taken care of by everyone else, what's my place in this world any more.

Soon to be unemployed again, soon to be demoralised by social nitwits, and soon to have nothing better than my own nightmares. I should just jump off a cliff, it be so much easier. Just one thing, I yet to reconcile the issues of god existence. Can't die just yet, seems life is still too precious if no after life exists. It's only a matter of time though, someone lit my fuse and I doubt natures calling will take me first. No games here, I want out. When are things meant to get better? I'm bored with going against the grain permanently. Am I just too strange for the world to cope with? Why does nobody understand? I make it all very straight forward so why do people make it so much more complicated. I'm surprised I even care. Definitely depressed- loss of feelings and don't care. But then that sums up half the population, neither do they care or have time to care.

The thing is once I step out of line, I'm flagged up as the bad egg:

"Oh no dear boy we better get rid of you before its too late, we can't have people like you around".

Oh shut up and get off your high horse, I'm not a garden pest so let me be.