The World has truly gone mad.

I am sat here trying to encapsulate, in a blog post, how f**ked up the last week has been.  I haven’t resorted to drink, and I haven’t developed a drug habit either.  But I am still in one or two pieces, so I am seeing that as a minor victory.
I think the catalyst has been the car.  First the indicators die, go to garage and they fix it.  Drive car away, indicators die again. Take back to garage, they spend 4 hours and charge me £150 quid for the privelege.  Then the back tail lights, back wiper and intrument lights don’t work, which I found about last night.  The whole thing is an amazingly constructed ‘bad joke’, because I am sure there is some smug fucker pointing at me and laughing.
Add to it an enlightening and inevitable discussion with Laura about the dire state of our marriage, and then a sheer wall of anger from her after I didn’t clean something or other which didn’t help either.

So tonight I am camped out in Bradninch whilst Laura does something with her friends.  I texted Polly to see if she wanted to go for a drink, but she wasn’t in a fit state after getting very drunk last night and losing all sense of direction and waking up hugging a hobo. Ah haa, I am joking.

I am not sure what the future will bring, but I feel in my bones that there are great changes afoot.

Anyway.  I bought a cheap tent last night and a sleeping bag, so I am going to trek across the UK and live as a wandering bard with my Ukulele and my craft of the Engerlish language.

Exeter, devoid of students for a few weeks…

It’s that time of year again.  Well it happens on multiple occasions to be honest, the great student migration.

Some students pack their own cars, fill to the roof with their belongings and other students have Mummy and Daddy to come and pack it for them.

Land Rovers and Mercedes traverse the narrow Quarters of Mount Pleasant and St James, ploughing their way through the sea of Saturday shoppers and ‘everybody else’ like an invading army of middle class management drones, to pick up their offspring like a chopper swooping in to a war zone to pick up a special ops after a covert black operation in deepest dangerous Devon.
And as usual, their collective resentment for anyone that drives anything else smaller then a Hummer becomes obvious as they perform sanity deprived manovures like pulling out in to the middle of a road and then slowing down, or cutting up small cars because after all they are as important as bacteria in the great circle of life.  And yes they are, and like a bateria, small car owners will spread like a fire in a dry bush.  Soon the Mercedes will fall at the feet of the KA and will worship them like they know they should.

I jest.

But there is a reason I don’t go out on Saturdays. Humanity loses sense and the normal people turn in to consumer driven drones that are programmed to ‘go to town and buy…’ stuff.  Same for Sunday but not as bad.

Slam Poetry Vs. Traditional Poetry, Writing, Comic Relief

It is like climbing a mountain.  The process of sitting down at a typewriter or a computer and writing something coherent and humourous is immensely hard.  And that is why I am writing in here, because despite my best efforts I have managed to spend the time that I was going to spend writing, playing quake and watching YouTube.  So now, whilst cooking myself something to eat, I am feeling very guilty and annoyed as I have to hoover and fight my way through the throngs of mindless DIY’ers in Bee n Coo.

I have been playing with the idea of keeping a Vlog.  For the uninitiated, it’s a video log, a bit like a weblog but with videos.  I am nearly convinced this is a good idea, however I am not too sure given the fact I am an ugly munt, and I have a weird voice that is a bit embarressing when it is obviously coming from my mouth.  If it’s just an audio recording I can deal with that.

So I have a reading on Wednesday, well it’s called ‘Take the Mic’ hosted by the Wondermentalist troop in the Phoenix bar on Wednesday night.  After going to the Vibraphonic poetry slam last week and watching a lot of slam poetry on YouTube I have started to question whether slam poetry is really the same thing as ‘traditional’ poetry.
Many slam poets memorise their work, which seems to be a necessity so that you can pull faces and scream a bit, sceptically you could argue that this is needed to cover up essentially bad poetic form.  If it has a notable rhythm then you don’t need to shout as loud.  Notable exception is when it’s actually a good poem such as ‘What Teachers Make’ by Taylor Mali. I will come back to this guy, as he is truly genius.
The main argument here, slam poets could use is that poetry was essentially spoken before and that writing poetry down is a relatively new development.  Yes, true. Take it back to the roots of what it was.  But the love of poetry is about being able to share it.  I was lucky enough to be close enough to see the title of the book Simon Williams was reading from at the vibraphonic poetry slam, it’s called Quirks and it is a really humourous little read, from what I have heard of it.
And although you can share slam poetry, you can often lose it in the sense of the moment.  Its delivery is a shared experience with the people in the room, but unless you record it, it goes no further.
Yes, many slam poets publish their own material but many do not.
So with that, am I really taken with slam poetry?  Yes and no.

Although the performances are amazing, although the acting is often melodramatic and heartfelt, and although going to a poetry slam is an amazing experience, I am not hedging my bets on it.  Slam poetry is amazing in its own right, but it feels too much like a monologue in poetic form, it closely shaves the line between performing a poem and acting, which is a very different sort of thing.

I know I might not be giving performance poetry its due, and don’t get me wrong, to perform a poem is a talented and gifted undertaking that only a few people can carry off really well.  Taylor Mali, John Hegley and a few others, but it is rare you really find someone who makes it feel like a poem being performed rather then a monologue being acted (and normally badly).

This is where I realise that the last few paragraphs have been long winded rant, so here is where I turn it around and decide to write something else. *gets up and makes a cuppa*

It was Comic Relief yesterday, and for once I did my bit.  On the crest of a suggestion from Sally and Polly, I decided to get my nails painted for Coming Relief!  I managed to keep the nail varnish on for about 4 hours before Laura started getting freaked out, comparing me to Eddie Izzard (RIP Drag Eddie).  So after that I had to go and take off my colourful digit decorations, which was strangely saddening.  However, the thing that struck me was more people that reeled in embarressment when they looked at my nails, rather then patting me on the back and saying ‘well done’.  I am still trying to work this out, is the shock that someone is wearing nail varnish more then the admiration that you get if you ‘do your bit’?  Not wishing to sound like a glory hunter, but it makes you see how easily shocked and arguably narrow minded many are to things that are a bit out of the ordinary.  Anyway, I raised £35.
Showing how colourful my digits are!

Angry Post with Nice Food

Last night makes me realise that there are things in this world that are worse then rape and torture.  One of those things, apart from eternal damnation is snobbery. Snobbery is a thing that makes me rile in my boots, it makes every inch of my skin crawl with that sort of tingling discomfort that you get when you scratch a black board with a fork. It is not my place to cast judgement, not my place to lable and segregate people in to categories, and maybe I am making no sense so I will explain.

Last night, we went for a glorious meal in the Merry Harriers just outside Cullompton.  It was small, cosy, rustic and they went out of their way to make us feel welcome and provide some extra veggie options.  I digress. During the meal, Laura’s aunt spoke of her horror when she was out with one of her grandchildren the other week and she pointed at a block of council flats and said “look granny, that’s where council scum live”.  She was abhorred to hear this, after all her mother had lived in a council house and she was a proud and dignified woman.  It was obvious she had been shaken by this, and obvious that the poor kid had not formed this opinion all by himself.

The parents, are at a lack for a better word, uber-snobs.  They have implanted this notion in to their child that people who live in Council Houses are scum.  That they are people who you should not talk to, not even look at with out squinting at them and pointing whilst throwing tomatos and rotten celery at them.  Thank you for warping this child, for ruining his mind at such an early age.  Another Daily Mail reader created.
But then it dawned on me that in fact, I have said some things before.  I then I thought back, and realised that I had been a snob on many occasions.  Referring to people as common,  and when I felt this I felt guilty like I had ran over an old lady with a milk float or guilty like giving my cats the wrong sort of food.  The fact that they had said this to their child made me angry, but then the realisation I had said snobby things as well, made me even angrier with myself.  Thankfully the food was nice so I quickly forgot this as I was trying to mix stilton with sticky toffee pudding, and it tasted nice too.

But then the question dawns on me, in a weird ‘Sex In The City’ kind of way.  Are all humans inately snobby?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0DUsGSMwZY
This is the famous Two Ronnies + John Cleese sketch that generalises the class system in a comedic and satirical fashion.  But it demonstrates quite nicely this ‘upstairs downstairs’ attitude that still seems to preoccupy the minds of many people in Britain today.
To actually answer the question would require a mountain of evidence, take about 4 years to write, would most probably mean me studying Sociology and Anthropology.  Then I could answer the question in a really good, well rounded way.  Instead I’ll write poem.

Snobbery is social robbery
Of rational thought and
Common sense.
Snobs are judge, jury and
Executioner.  But then
Are we no better then
They are? To lable someone
A Snob, means, you
Are judging them by the same
Sweeping brush stroke
That they tarnish you with?

That was really an extension of the sentence, however as it was a ‘poem’ I could get away with making my real point without losing the objectivity of this post.  But that is it in a nut shell.

So really, snobbery is a human condition.  I expect in many respects they are simply jealous that they have to spend thousands on things that some council tenants get for free.  Maybe they are jealous that ‘council scum’ are actually much happier people as they have less assets to lose in the recession, but then lets not tarnish ourselves with the same brush they use to tarnish us.  I know I won’t.

Quake Wars and Distressing Chilli

After getting an itch the other day, I took some old games down to Entertainment Exchange and decided I wanted to rebuy Civilization 4.  So I did.  Got back home and found it didn’t work.  So I took it back and got Quake Wars.  It was a big mistake as I have been hooked to it all weekend.  It is truly amazing, with a revolutionary new game engine and some really well thought out and highly developed features, this is a stunning FPS.  The online option lets you take part in online team battles, specialising in a number of roles from Medic to Covert Ops.  A definite must get for anyone that likes Counter Strike or Unreal.

So the Oscars are on and I get that tinge of remorse as people go crazy.  How did Bukowski put it in his poem Dinosauria, we, “Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes” Am I a sceptic?  I’d be an optimist to say yes.
I’ve not been happy today, a sense of loss, a sensation of incompleteness.  Aggrevated at everything that happens, I think the making of a distressing chilli was the thing that pushed me over the edge.  I overcooked the rice and made a hideous mess which stressed me out immensely, hence ‘distressing chilli’.
Tomorrow might be better but I doubt it.

Happytop Lappytop

I have managed to get my laptop to work! Yey!  And after much speculating, it was indeed the battery that was causing it not to work.  This was found out only after I took it apart, and put it back together again and forgot to put the battery back.  Well, thankfully I’m not a laptop technician so how the frig should I know?

My ‘holiday’ of sorts is nearly over, ha! I have today off and then it’s a manic week of getting things done and making sure things are in shape and order for next week.  I bought a new briefcase and I have also managed to write my first villanelle (poetic form) which is viewable on cheesegreen.  It’s about domestic violence and I managed to write it at 2am this morning, which is an achievement as I was asleep when I wrote it.

I have been feeling a bit happier today, not sure why I’ve felt under the weather as much as I have been, possibly the economic climate? the weather? the fact that you can’t seem to get any decent games for a PC running vista without having to go through a small and largely pointless rigmorale only to discover this enlightening fact?  Who knows.

Jlime? Waste of time?

When I was given a trusty little HP Jornada 690, I jumped with joy.  Literally buzzing, I ran home to tell my mum.  Not really.

I quickly realised why this thing was surplus to requirement.

Although the packages installed, Pocket Word etc. were really useful little tools, and with a 75% keyboard, you could actually write on it.  However, it struggled to get on the internet as the browser was IE 3.3 or something archane and obsolete.  So started the long and fruitless hunt for a piece of software that would let me go on the internet as normal (displaying Java, SSL etc).

Months down the line and I still couldn’t find anything that wasn’t going to cost me the earth.  In the meantime, I received a phone with Opera loaded on, and Wifi too, so immediately this seemed to destine my poor Jornada for the bin.

However, thought me, I could install JLime onboard and see what happens.  JLime is basically a ported Unix operating system that is booted from the CF Card, it gives you some up to date applications and an updated browser too.  A week after hijacking my grandads laptop (running Xubuntu, however I used Puppy Linux) I am still no closer to being able to use this stupid thing.

I managed to load Jlime Winter userland (amazing Proof of Concept GUI) on fine, then I tried Donkey which didn’t work, then I tried ICEwm which loaded but didn’t let me use the stylus.  So in a minute, I am going to go and load Vargtass on and if that doesn’t work I will put it down to a lost cause and give my grandad his laptop back.

Or I could try NetBSD? hmmmmmm

I might woodstain the hutch as Laura hasn’t woken up yet.

The Great Gervais Question…

Why is Ricky Gervais funny? Discuss.

I am still trying to work this one out, in fact I have been dedicating excessive cranial resources to the matter.  It is something that comes up everytime I see him on television, read about him or if he is brought up by someone in coversation.  And frankly I am, befuddled beyond belief.

Last night, the man who bears some resemblance to a wet box of Quaker Oats (I am sorry but that is what he reminds me of) came up in the ‘100 Greatest Comedy Characters of All Time, Ever ever ever.’ or something like that.  The usual Saturday night ‘List Show’ format that producers become ever reliant on to fill up air time, wheel out some X list celebrities and have them pass ‘expert’ opinion on popular choices made by executives in a boardroom with interactive whiteboards, powerpoint projections and ponytails. No. Wait. I mean people, the ever fair ‘votes’ counted, of course.  We the people etc.

I digress.

I can’t remember what number he was, but David Brent came up in the top three under John Cleese with Basil Fawlty getting the top spot.  Great. But I can not even start to fathom what makes this man, funny.  So in some sort of analysis I believe there are three reasons that could possibly lead to a pleasurable reaction from this strange little man.

Reason One. The package.

Now. Look at him. Go on.  I think part of the reason is the slicked back hair, the teeth and the eyes of a man possesed with the spirit of a 13th Century monk.  He has a calm, collected but immeasurably smug aura about him that screams, ‘I am a smug man with lots of money and a personal trainer’.  That isn’t funny.  That’s sickening.  But in the right context, this could be funny aka, David Brent, who was mildly humourous, in the way that cphyllis is.
But then, everything is funny.  Take for example the ‘Aids Song’ in family guy.  Aids isn’t funny, it is a horrific pandemic that kills thousands each day and ruins lives, orphans children and keeps big biotech companies in existence.  But that was funny, it was presented in a ‘I can’t believe they’re doing this and getting away with it’ way, it was tasteless and insensitive but I laughed.

Reason Two. The writing.

Now, if one analyses the humour and comedy in ‘The Office’ or even ‘Extras’, you will find that Gervais and his band of writing elves produce really funny material.  Read the Office scripts and you will find yourself chuckling at the pompacity of Brents character, his ineptitude and this power crazed ego that fuels his actions.  It is actually funny.  But then watch it on telly and is it as funny? Not in my opinion.

The way it comes across visually is ruined by the smugness of Gervais and the aura.  Yes, David Brent was smug, but I am not engaged by his performance.  It looks dry and thin like a spray coat of lacquer.  Shiny and smooth like his slick-backed hair, but lacking in substance.

Reason Three. Popular will.

My third reason is seeming to be the most likely at the moment.  Just by the sheer will power of the popular notion that Gervais is funny, he actually stops being crass and pointless and takes on a humour that is unique.  It is the underlying polite nature of, well, everyone, that makes him popular.  No one actually finds him funny, but you feel you have to find it funny as everyone will stop liking you, expel you from the Badminton Club, withhold your subscription to Esquire, scratch ‘Get a sense of humour’ in to your car door when you suddenly let slip at your christmas party, in a drunken haze I might add, that Ricky Gervais is a funny as a tax man in Jongleurs. Or Jimmy Carr.

The conclusion is, although I hold nothing personal against Ricky Gervais (he might the most sweet natured kind man ever) I don’t find his work, or his performance funny.  And in fact people should just stop pretending to like him and lead a revolution against this popular conception that he makes everyone laugh.

Yes, there are plenty of people who do genuinely like his work, but I am not one of them.
OK, I am sorry.  That was 100% pure home grown, mountain reered, organic rant.  Ranting is acceptable, but if it is shallow and pointless, just like that was, then it rather ruins the feel of the entry. 

I was gutted to discover that I have lost my Civilization 4 disc, with all expansion packs on.  I tried installed Sim City 4 in to the computer, but again, this is going wrong as it keeps crashing.  I have looked on various forums and the solution seems to be turning off the hyperthreading function, which sounds ominous, so I am just going to pretend I didn’t read it and try and save it regularly.

I am having a pokerless day today, as I have been playing a lot of it recently and I am starting to lose the will.  Last night I was on the final four tables in a 50$ Freeroll that Ultimate Bet runs every hour, and I just lost interest and went All In with a 7d4h which is nearly the worst hand you can get.  Anyhoo, we’re going christmas shopping this afternoon as the days are counting down slowly to good ol’ Christmas.

European Music Awards 2008, British acts fail to win big…

It’s that time of year again when MTV drags its sorry behind over here and infests some grand and noble European city and puts on a visually impressive show that is meant to wow audiences and entertain.  It does, but it just makes the rest of us shake our heads even harder at the excessive waste of electricity and human labour that seem to go in to these bizarre award shows.

So I watched some of it last night, there was no Poker on and I was tired of trying to teach myself how to DJ, and the first thing that gets awarded is ‘Best Headliner’.  The grand masters of metal, Metallica were nominated, so were those punkly munchkins Linkin Park, and so was Tokio Hotel.

Who the fleg is Tokio Hotel, why are they in existence?  I have never heard of them.  The lead singer looks like hair with a body.  Seriously, he is hair with this token fleshy bit with legs stuck on the end as an afterthought.  I sat in despair as Metallica came in behind punkly pukemeisters Linkin Park and these Tokio people.  I wept tears of despair.

I have to say, however, that I was glad that Britney Spears won something.  I am not a fan, by far, but after the ordeal she has gone through, it’s nice to see her getting things back together.

The notable lack of British bands winning awards make me quiver with worry about the further depression of the British music scene.  Although we are popular overseas and at home, this is never reflected in awards won.  I know it’s not exactly a Eurovision scale scandal, but the range of excellent music Britain produces was not reflected last night.  OK, Sir Paul and Rick Astley were recognised as they should be, but please? Coldplay were nominated for three categories and got..nada.  I know they are poptastic and slightly manufactured, but they are still a good group with talent and deserve some sort of recognition apart from nominations.

However, moaning aside, good came out of the EMA in the reoccurance of Barack Obama’s name,  Nothing but praise and positivity for BO as people dropped the name in (just to show they were truly hip and ‘down with it’?).  This is good as it shows a renewed interest in politics and the youth coming out of the woodwork voice what they have to say, to the people that matter.  In this election, there has never been so many new voters.  If BO is fashionable, then it’s better then Dubya and the reaction that he has been provoking.

Thank you Bien for pointing out to me that Tokio is an alternative, if not more correct spelling of Tokyo.  I am now more wiser then I was this morning, however, they are still rubbish and still should not have won the Headliner award last night, and the lead singer looks like a giant hair monster and and…yes I think that’s about it.

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