The contractual obligation post

Erm, I suppose writing my three posts for the week all on the same day probably wasn't really in the spirit of that promise thingy, was it? [Who are you asking, exactly? Oh, leave me alone, it was you who got me into this mess in the first place. Me? I thought I was just a postmodern affectation. Yes. Yes. We're not getting into that again]. And now here the third post is, consisting mostly of vaguely apologetic mutterings about not yet reviving Not 4'33". Great.

So, erm, yes, if I could just say one small thing in my defence... well, that would at least make the situation a little better, I suppose. Shame I can't really, then. Though quite who really cares anyway...

Still, to anyone who does:

Um, sorry. There definitely won't be anything on Not 4'33" for another few days, but things are still afoot. Also, yes, that is both entirely true and more grammatical than it sounds.


In other non-news: I was thinking about Sandinistas yesterday. Not because I have any particularly abiding interest in Nicaraguan Marxist revolutionaries, I was just, um, idly wondering what sort of things might live in sand.

Er, obviously, I didn't think they really lived in sand (necessarily). It was just a bad pun. And I was at least dimly aware that they were some kind of Central/South American revolutionaries, and that I should probably know a little more. At the very least whether they really did live in sand, for instance. So I googled them. The sand thing was a bit inconclusive.

Anyway, they're not the kind of thing you usually think too much about, are they, Sandinistas? So it was a bit weird to see this article in today's Guardian.

Sometimes you could almost be forgiven for thinking life isn't really so random after all.

[Shudders]

I mean, God, you'd hate to think it was this way on purpose...

Filter Category: Mildly Amusing

Sometimes, when I'm in town and can't quite be bothered to go home yet, I come to the library, to check my e-mail, read blogs, google things before I forget them, all the usual kind of procrastinatory bits and nonsense. All of them apart from Facebook, that is. Try to go to Facebook and this is what you'll see:

CORNWALL LIBRARY SERVICE: ACCEPTABLE USE POLICY

This page has been filtered because it breaches the Cornwall Library Service Acceptable Use Policy.

Filter Category: Social Networking

Hmph, I say.

But that isn't why I'm writing this post. The library blocks quite a few sites. In fact, when I first moved down here, it was blocking the discussion boards on the website for my MA course. Which, seeing as I had no internet at home at the time, cost me an awful lot in coffees at Cafe Cinnamon Girl (when I could work out when the bloody place was actually open). Apparently, though, some of their decisions are quite reasonable; amusing even.

Anyone who has an iGoogle hompage will know you can add little boxes that display feeds and content from other sites. On my page, I have one called Chimp-o-Matic (I think that link's right; it won't let me go there); it displays random George W Bush quotes. Or it does when I'm not in the library. I can't say that I usually take much notice of that particular box these days, even when it works, but today, for some reason, it occurred to me to scroll down and find out what exactly it is that Cornwall Library Service has against the world's most powerful idiot:

Filter Category: Tasteless & Offensive

Hmm...

GEORGE W BUSH TASTELESS AND OFFENSIVE, SAYS CORNWALL LIBRARY SERVICE

I can see the headlines now...

Hopelessly unsociable

The other day I came home to find the living room full of people. It's quite a small living room (a barely-alive room?) so that doesn't really take much. Anyway, S., E., possibly M., C.*, and someone whose name I forget but appears to be C.'s new boyfriend were all in there chatting. She introduced me to the new bloke, and I think I at least said, Hello, or words to that effect. Erm, I think I might have been expected to sit and be sociable, though.

But what went through my head was: "Hmph. I was really looking forward to putting some music on, lying down, and having a nice quiet read. And now there are people. Bloody people. They get everywhere. Hmm. Of course, if my room wasn't at the back of the living room, I'd just go straight there... So if I just continue straight on through right now I'm not really being unsociable, am I, I'm just refusing to accept an accident of geography. Yes. That makes sense." So I did. And throroughly enjoyed my nice quiet-ish read.

Later, though, I felt a little bit guilty. Sort of.

---

Earlier today, I was doing some washing up. Somewhere amidst the boredom, I got to wondering whether I should maybe apologise. I hadn't really seen C. since, though, so wasn't too sure if there was any need. Still, probably wouldn't hurt, I decided. I mean, I'm not usually quite as unsociable as that, am I? I just spend quite a lot of time in my room. When I'm not out. Yes, I should probably apologise. At which point I heard myself thinking:

"Ah. I wish I knew her e-mail address. A quick e-mail, that would probably be the best thing."

Apologising. To a housemate. For being unsociable. Via e-mail.

Suddenly, the image of someone trying to hide the Great Wall of China with a dustsheet came to mind.

After that, the whole idea just seemed a bit redundant, really...

Erm...


I probably won't bother.



*my housemates, in other words.

A wild desk chase

"There's a desk. In the High Street. Opposite the health food shop," said Miss-Cellany, when I answered the phone. The closest thing I have to a desk at present is a slightly too high, wonky-legged table. I don't use it. It gives me backache. Of course, so does writing in bed; but at least it keeps my feet warm. Needless to say, I sprang into action immediately, umming and ahhing with all the urgency I could muster.

Could I be bothered? Hmm. I'd been into town already; it had resulted in a sudden and unexpected soaking. And there was still writing work to do (yes, I'm semi-employed at the moment). What to do? Procrastinate for half an hour and then go anyway, I decided. Well, not so much decided; it was just what happened, really.

Miss-Cellany was right*. Outside an architects firm, or possibly an estate agents (it had something to do with property anyway), there it was: the desk. But was it going to be small enough?

From where I was, it was hard to see. And more crucially, a tallish dark-haired woman with glasses was standing in front of it. She seemed to be trying to get to the office door. Eventually managing to squeeze past the desk, she knocked. At least that would save me the trouble, I thought. A pause. No-one answered. So, it was clear: the desk was free for the taking.

Ah. But her taking, or mine?

Yep. Hers. Obviously.

[Sigh] It was probably too big anyway.



Hmm, that would have been a good place to end it - I quite liked the bathos. But what actually happened was that we got talking. She was setting up a new business, she said - music promotions. And she wanted to know what I did. I tried to remember, and, after what I noted happily was only a small delay, I told her. She seemed interested. I told her something about the Radio 4 sitcom that might now be an Afternoon Play. She told me that she knew a television producer and took my number. Most likely nothing will come of it, and if it does, I have every expectation that the producer will turn out to be Colin Rogers reviving the Resnick franchise. But I thanked her anyway.

Deciding that I'd better text emapple to say that transport wouldn't be needed after all, I remained standing beside the woman's car; the woman was still securing the desk in her boot. We continued to chat a little. Neither, it seems, was Serendipity yet done at the scene; or perhaps she just had another whim and came back - I don't really know how it works. Either way: "Oh, I do some work for a record company," the woman said. "They might have something for you. Maybe artist profiles, or something like that."

It could only be... yep, Aardvark Records.

Erm, it's probably about time I thanked them for this anyway...

[N.B. "[T]he cut and thrust of a pressure cooker environment" might have been overdoing things just a little bit... But still, very nice of them to say, though]


*not that I'd doubted her. I just felt that paragraph needed to begin with a sentence a bit like that.

Moving swiftly on...

Apparently, this is the 70th post on this blog...

[sound of a lone party popper. Followed by muttered self-recriminations along the lines of, "Great. I suppose I'll have to clear that up. Sometime."]





Bit of a letdown really, wasn't it?





UNRELATED ADDENDUM: I noticed earlier that undecorated is an anagram of undercoated. At the time, it seemed worth remarking on.

[Sigh] Less so now.


Still kind of a letdown, this, isn't it?

Well, I suppose it's for my own good...

I haven't blogged much lately, have I? There are, of course, reasons for this neglect - I expect - but I'm damned if I can be bothered to wonder what they might be, so let's just agree that it's all some kind of unsolvable mystery, shall we? Is that OK?

Good.

Because that always sounds so much more edifying than chronic laziness...

Anyway, while I've been away: somewhere in the back of my head - evidently very quietly and sneakily, because ordinarily I wouldn't stand for such treachery and open rebellion - my brain appears to have been thinking. Yes, thinking. Making decisions even. Bothersome bloody thing. I mean, it would have been nice if it had at least consulted me first, before traipsing off and planning my life without me. But, oh no, not my br...

Well, anyway, I want some sleep, so I suppose I'd better hand over the blogpost now. Or so the blackmail note reads. Sigh.

Go on then, brain, get on with it:

Thanks. So nice to feel welcome... I should imagine.

But down to business:

My grudging host has already referred to his neglect of this blog; sadly, it's not the only one upon which he has been bestowing his abundant laziness. Indeed, over the past year, his taking-place-in-the-future blog has received even more generous helpings. So much so, that it's now in the past. Well, enough of this laxity! There shall be changes around here. Just see if there aren't!

And indeed that's the point: you readers will see quite clearly if there aren't. So, once they've been promised and detailed here, there'll have to be changes. What those changes shall be I shall come to in due course, but first a few words about myself:

Clearly, I am not really a brain, merely a postmodern affectation designed to distance its author from the sincerity of his own intentions. He's woefully fond of postmodern affectations, you'll have noticed. Less so, of appearing sincere when he sets out to do anything at which he might fail. I am here because he has plans: optimistic plans. He's always distrusted optimistic plans. All the more reason, then, to announce them in such a way that, should they fail, it might at least appear, later, that he hadn't been stupid enough to wholly believe in them.

So that's that plan scuppered.

[Sighs] Well, unless this is yet another layer of distancing - delivered by a "brain" from which he has already disassociated himself, can the intentions behind any of these words be trusted either?

Hmm, the brain as unreliable narrator - now there's a metaphor! He'd probably be quite proud of that, if he'd thought of it...

But I digress. It's about time I committed him to these blog changes: I can't keep him awake forever, and he's not weasling out of them again.

So, the changes:

- Not 4'33" shall be revived. Some time within the next fortnight. Exact details still to be decided upon.

- This blog shall, at least once a month, provide some kind of update on the progress of its writer's writing career. The intention being that if progress reports are expected of him, he will be forced to have some progress to report. Exact details to be decided, but will probably include: a rough idea of the kind of jobs done; remuneration; hours worked; practicalities of working freelance; the usual tiresome whinging. It is hoped that such information might prove useful to someone; though the cathartic whinging, probably only to him.

- Across both blogs, there shall be a combined total of at least three new posts a week. Perhaps to include the odd review of things and/or stuff. Probably both: there's a lot more space to fill...

- Only heavy workload/computery difficulties/illnesses-other-than-colds shall be an excuse for lapses from the above. So, another reason to hope for a heavier workload...

- The author will now interject in such a way as to irrevocably collapse this stupid distancing thing.



I said: "The author will now interject in such a way as to irrevocably collapse that stupid distancing thing"!


Hmm?

Oh. You've finished.


[Sighs] Fine:

I'll do all that stuff.


God, postmodern affectations can get you in to some awful messes...

Link for a dull rainy day

Today, I shall say no more than, go here: Bent Objects

It has stuff like this:




Link found a few clicks distant from Patroclus's blogroll.

If I wanted a Tube map, I'd live in London

I've just sat here for fifteen minutes trying to remember what I've done today; which at least accounts for fifteen minutes of it, I suppose. As for the many other minutes between 9:30am and now... Erm, pass. I suppose this must be why people write diaries. What did I do today, they must ask themselves, and there it is, helpfully transcribed. That must be nice. Ah, yes, they must exclaim, that's what I did! Of course. How could I have forgotten? Wrote in my diary. Brilliant, I can get on with the rest of my day now.

At least, not having one myself, that's what I imagine people with diaries must do in such circumstances... (my failure to keep one is longstanding, and often quite literal - I gave away the one I got this Christmas). And if I did have one, I'd only open it to the relevant page and find the words Forgot to write in diary, or something. That sounds like the kind of stupid thing I'd write. And then instantly forget about. Oh, look what that says, I might think, that can't be right. And then lose whole days to pondering the inherent paradox.

Which reminds me: intentionally blank pages in exam papers! That's a bloody cruel trick to play on a philosophy student. I once spent half an exam thinking it was just a particularly obtuse question.

What?

The exam was on intentionality.

Anyway, diaries. That's exactly what would happen if I had one, I'd innocently wonder what I'd done all day and the next thing: paradox. I can't remember half of what I do with my life anyway, without some diary making things worse! And come to think of it, who do they think they are? Calendars, without the pretty pictures! Anally retentive notebooks!



Tsk! Stupid, stupid inventions.




[Woo! It's fun being grumpy :) ]

Listen Again

I was listening to iPM earlier. For those who haven't heard it before, it's essentially a heady interactive mix of consumer issues, current events, and extended whinges about the misleading advertising of broadband speeds; an offshoot of news and analysis programme PM, but with a blog. I'm sure last Saturday's programme must have raised all sorts of interesting and thought-provoking issues that I could perhaps have diverted you with here; however, throughout the entire 25 minutes I found myself with just one - admittedly quite pressing - question on my mind: "Ooh, I wonder what would happen if you just added a letter to other popular Radio 4 programmes? Or you could take one away! Brilliant."

Erm, I got quite excited.

What? It was a quiet afternoon.

Anyway, so far, my favourite alternative programme by a long way has to be Monkey Box Live (with recorded highlights available on partner programme Monkey Box; obviously). Erm, not really sure what that might entail, quite frankly, beyond recordings of a box full of monkeys... Still, that's more than enough, isn't it?

Of course it is.

Anyway, here are some more I came up with (like I said, it was a quiet afternoon):
(for those more unfamiliar with the Radio 4 schedule, links go to the parent programme)


Act O'Worship - same programme, but now outsourced to an Irish call centre.

Afternoon Lay - Russell Brand keeps us up to date on his sex life (stand-in presenter: David Walliams).

From Our Down Correspondent - news for depressives.

Tall in the Mind - short people with denial issues.

Afternoon Dreading - niche programming for those who fear the hours between 12pm and 6pm.

Quote... Nunquote - same as original, but with a vow of silence. Thank God.

The Achers - daily discussion programme for arthritis sufferers.

The Achers Omnibus - weekend edition of The Achers. On a bus. For some reason.

Many Questions? - same as original programme, but with Jonathan Dimbleby giving the distinct impression he'd really quite like to get home for his tea.

Bran of Britain - needlessly testing the nation's knowledge of husks.

Excess Braggage - half an hour of insufferable boasting.

Eek in Westminster - comedy programme, in which a mouse is secretly let loose in the House of Commons.

A Good Tread - Sue MacGregor and guests discuss their favourite tyres.

In Our Tim - Tim Henman reads from his food diary, occasionally hurried along by Jeremy Paxman - "C'mon, Tim!"

The Latte Story - updated radio adaptation of those Gold Blend ads from the 80s.

Prayer for the Dray - daily entreaty on behalf of the traditional haulage industry.

You 'ad Yours! - noisily triumphalist consumer affairs programme. But just to completely distinguish it from the original, now presented by aggressive Cockneys. You slag.

Woman Sour - sixty minutes of personal attacks on Jenni Murrray by Yoda. Utterly, utterly uncalled for. Yet strangely compelling...


Ok. I'm done. No, wait...


Nope, I'm done. Bit tenuous those last few, but never mind.

Not so Christian Voice

In the comments of my previous post (all those weeks ago... sigh), for some reason or other, and at no-one whatever's request, I grudgingly resigned myself to having to say something considered and articulate about free speech... fortunately, it so happens that Stewart Lee, the co-creator of Jerry Springer - The Opera, has already done the job for me :)

Well, not for me specifically... I didn't commission it or anything... I just mean that...

Look, anyway, if you have 40-something minutes to spare and don't mind watching lots of people saying stuff you already agree with (unless you don't; in which case, you probably should watch it, and not just because it's fun to shout stuff at people on telly) you can watch his documentary don't get me started... in YouTube-sized chunks here, here, here, here, here, then here. Unlike watching back-to-back episodes of Two Pints of Lager..., it probably won't be the worst thing you've ever done with 40-something minutes. Actually, that probably doesn't work, does it? Back-to-back episodes of Two Pints... would be more like 50-something minutes... No, never mind, that actually probably just reinforces my point.

[Sighs] It's no use. I tried, but it turns out I can't hold my tongue (eeeew, it's covered in spit):

1. Jerry Springer - The Opera DOESN'T portray Jesus as a coprophiliac sexual deviant. It's just the same actor in a very similar costume. If Stephen Green had seen the show he might have noticed. Oh, wait, apparently he did see the show. Still, to be fair, it must have been difficult to see everything properly while wearing blinkers.

2. If God does exist, He surely doesn't need defending. Surely. Even by humourless reactionaries who seem to think "the government is encouraging children into... infertility" (seriously, what?). Well, that's just the start of Christian Voice's nuttiness. I could go on... and on... and... but just take a look at their website. It's a veritable prelapsarian paradise of Christian love* and tolerance.

It isn't?

Really, I'm shocked.

3. Not really especially related to freedom of speech or Jerry Springer - The Opera, but anyway... I notice that Christian Voice has produced a Briefing Paper on Islam, which they believe to be "as dispassionate a piece of research as possible and... a true reflection on the beliefs of Islam." Wow. That must have been some piece of research. I wonder how many people worked on that "massive undertaking", how many people there were busily and thoroughly sifting out the "authorative sources", working night and day? After all there's "so much [material]" out there these days. There must have been at least, ooh, how many people...

You don't say. Really? Just the one? That can't be right. Oh well, I'm sure he must have been a highly regarded expert on...

No?

It was Stephen Green?

Of course it was.

Still, at least he has an MA. In something. So that's alright then.

(Hmm, you have to actually send away for it too. Might it be just a little too underinformed and inflammatory to be freely available and easily prosecutable? I wonder...)

4. And what's the thing that annoys me most about Christian Voice? That they're such easy targets. I mean, now I feel like a bully for even having said any of this. And how cunning and underhand is that? Bloody passive-agressive religio-nutjobs.

Actually, it was the stunning level of bigotry and intolerance that annoyed me most. Of course.

But that wasn't funny.

In any way.

[Sighs] And God forbid I should be serious...


Actually, I really shouldn't. Because if God is even remotely connected to Christian Voice then I can only conclude that: a) humourlessness is next to Godliness; and, b) that's not a God I ever want to get close to.


And here endeth the rant.


Tomorrow:

Facebook: cultural phenomenon, or first instruction in remedial reading classes?


*should anyone decide to be pedantic, what I mean is, if Christ came to save mankind from Original Sin, then Christian love must be, in a sense, prelapsarian.