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So draws to an imminent close the second year of this pulsating bastard they call a degree. To think and take in all at once the stuff that can happen during the first 66.6% of an undergraduate degree could be enough to cause total nuclear melt down.. only, you know, in your own head rather than in some dubiously secretive yet cripplingly financially destitute former Russian state.
Handed in my final essay for the term yesterday, but I've still got a 4000 word SF essay for when we return, as well as my Creative Writing portfolio. Time is moving very quickly indeed.
Salsa came in the forms of both wonderment and absolute bollocks over the last month or so. On the good side, I was re-elected treasurer for next year with 62 out of 62 votes (I'm pretty sure it was the Dominos I'd ordered for everyone that really swung it) and we ended the year having had some of the most successful socials the society has held, and also up a couple of hundred quid. Christ knows what we'll spend that on.
The bollocks came in the form of the stress and organisation, then failure of the 7-date UK tour we had been planning since January. Unfortunately, when it came to the crunch, people just didn't seem that interested. Sad but true. However, of the few of us that were keen, one member kindly offered us to stay in her dad's apartment in Barcelona during the same period as well, seeing as we'd all be free anyway. And seeing as it's basically cost us what the tour would have done each anyway, that's that. Barcelona it is! Never been to Spain before, quite looking forward to the break from it all now..
For our final SF seminar this week (where Kayte, Luke and I had to present on Nicola Robson's Natural History) we made and distributed Tin Man-style headgear in keeping with the augmentation/cyborg themes of the novel. We insisted that everyone where the helmets in order for the presentation to fully work; they complied and all was well.
Been taking quite a few portraits of friends (ones leaving, ones staying, ones already gone) over the last couple of weeks. Because of the speed by which everything comes and goes at university, I've felt compelled to document it all as much as I can now. Here's some shots (an ongoing project now):
Mils
Kenny & Francesca When I say that things here move too fast and too many to really understand what it going on, I truly mean it. There is so much symbolism, every day. All day long at times. And when it isn't that, it is something else. It is quiet, and this is the time to make lists:
Daylight list (year two) -
The hill, sitting on the bench or the grass ..the potential of it all.
Sometimes the coffee is made well ..a good start to things always.
Laura Veirs 11minutes, Arts the Beat Doctor, 21 minutes
'A sensitive and original approach to the subject' ..nothing to get too involved in. Thank god.
I'll walk you home if you want
Cookies? Rounds slags, more like ..because they go down too easily
Those are my demands ..Fair enough. I think we can appease you.
Does my guitar keep you up? .. We're just lucky you can sing
Saxondale.
Then Partridge. ..One more before bed?
Remember the baseball bat guy? He sat on our sofa.
Killing Joke invented everything. ..What, even the Ped Egg?
Random yet affectionate text regarding recipient’s previous geographical location,
followed by hyperbolic reference to the passing of time.
Amusing and ironic retraction of affection.
Iconic representation of a kiss.
Kazuo Ishiguro doing a reading locally .. couldn't make it, but the informing was an act of absolute kindness
New found patience ..never too late, remember this
Night time list (year two) -
Cold in the morning ..but warm by the evening. You know this.
The bricks are everywhere in the morning ..but rebuilt by the evening. You know this.
Someone's parents dying .. what can I do? What can I do here to be brave and to love and listen?
Is this guilt? ..this is pretty big
This must be regret ..come on now positive
10/90 seriously ..come on
Alice in Chains, Jane's Addiction, Soundgarden, Deftones, Helmet, Kerbdog 4 hrs
There is so much symbolism.
So.. Quick run down of recent excitement:
Actually managed to get in some top-notch Aerobie with Mary, Charlotte and Max, due to a brief spell of nice weather. Hadn't had a proper session since.. oh, god.. maybe last June? May, even? Christ. And I remember when there was a point when this here blog seemed to be about nothing but those little flighty sods. Anyway, after a few rusty moments of shit throwing/catching, loss of the disc over the fence (repeatedly, but regained due to Mary and Charlotte's ninja-like agility) and general filth of the muddy field we resorted to (can't beat Parkwood sports field, let's face it) it turned out to be a good session, and no mistake.
One strange thing that happened right after was that we were walking back towards the house when two young girls (no older than eleven) come running up to me; one grabs my Aerobie and says "Wow, cool frisbee, mate! Can I have a go?" and starts to swiftly walk away with it. Before I could chase her or do anything, she falls on her arse onto the pavement, and the disc is retrieved. Before she gets up, she just kind of looks up at us. I ask her is she is okay, and she gives me a look as if she was about to from saying "Fuck off, clean-shirt." We moved on.
Had a visit from Chris back home. Somewhat epic weekend, beginning with taking him straight to Orange Street on the Friday, followed by two 4am-nighters out and about, seeing people, talking like we'd just invented it, etc. Truly great to have someone from back home to show everything that goes on in this here town. Makes it all seem a bit more real, in a way..
Put up Duncan and Becky for a couple of nights whilst Duncan visited old friends from university. Became good friends with Becky during her final year, and subsequently friends with Duncan through her. Took the pair of them to a Salsa event in town on the Saturday, where I think they were both into it enough to join me at a London club in a few weeks..
Speaking of Salsa, we're currently planning a seven-date tour of the south coast salsa clubs.
Photographic evidence of a change in the weather:
Marcelino and Charlotte basking (Charlotte was back from Tokyo for a brief time recently)
Agnieszka out and about. Beautiful sun, but harsh winds that day. So it goes.
Spencer.
Rehearsals for the International Showcase (Salsa won the Dance Section, obviously).
We've signed up for 88 Tenterden Drive again. It all seems to be moving pretty fast. Soon comes Manchester..
Losing weeks pretty quickly now. Keeping on top of the reading, though (currently Last Orders by Graham Swift (1996)) and soon the assignments will need proper attention. Had a very strange situation in the Gulbenkian cafe the other day; a girl walked in and sat on the sofa opposite me. I waved and she waved back, and I picked up my stuff to sit by her and the conversation went something like this;
Me - How's it going?
Girl - Ok, I guess. I'm finding it tough to meet people, though.
Me - What do you mean?
Girl - Well, I only really know the people in my seminars. I don't really have anyone to hang out with.
Me - That's a shame. I thought you were quite funny when we met.
Girl - ..I'm sorry?
Me - When we met. In the library cafe.
Girl - In the.. ?
Me - Yeah, you remember. I bought a coffee, and then asked for a cup of water, and then asked for a teaspoon and then ended with 'Those are my demands'. You replied with 'Fair enough. I think we can appease you.' I thought that was funny.
Girl - I've.. never met you before today.
Me - ...What? Then who..?
Girl - That wasn't me.
Me -Oh. Right. Ermm.. sorry about that. God, you really do look like this girl who..
Girl - I just know you from Salsa.
Me - ..What? Salsa?
Girl - Yeah. I've seen you teaching Salsa.
Me - Have.. we danced before?
Girl - No. I've never met you until today.
Me - Right. But we both do Salsa?
Girl - Yes.
Me - Ok. Right. What's your name then?
And so on and so on and so on. Sometimes, and this goes without saying, this campus is very small indeed.
The above picture of two white hot chocolates in at Chambers Cafe, where Kenny and I popped in for lunch on Wednesday. When ordering, I couldn't remember if it was 'hot white chocolate' or 'white hot chocolate' (the second one makes me think of the centre of the sun for some reason), so our drinks were presented to us thusly to assay any confusion. The end.
Bit of a literary wet dream for me on Tuesday night. China Mieville was doing a reading and Q & A session in the Missing Link building, much to the fawning adoration of Paul March-Russell ( my Science Fictions module convener) as well as to many a wine-sipping SF-head, including myself. It was highly entertaining to hear him read excerpts from Kraken, his soon to be published latest novel, and also to hear him almost childishly stamp his feet in defence of the much maligned genre of SF as a whole. In the audience was none other than Scarlett Thomas, brilliant author and undoubtedly one of the reasons why I decided to take writing seriously for myself as well as reading, and my eventual decision to go back to university. I unashamedly asked both authors to let me have my picture taken with them, throwing dignified caution to the wind. If you know not of these authors, you are dead to the joys of life. Get out.
My friend Anabela came over Sunday and cooked traditional Portugese food for all of us, basically confirming that all in all university life is often arse-shatteringly good. As well as pea, chicken and chotizo stew, we also had a chicken, peppers and onion casserole type-thing, and vegetarian quiche. All of this was rounded off with home made banana cake and coffee.
Saw David O' Doherty live on saturday also.
Boo yah!
Doesn't matter how busy I find myself with work, everyone seems to be more busy and more I know what I'm doing so get out of my way with theirs. Anyhow, still ticking along. Keeping my eye on the prize.
There's this cat who keeps hanging round the Gulbenkian at night. Not seen him during the day. I know he is a him because he has a cat's penis. Quite a nice cat, actually. We fed him some beef the other night and he loved that, but he doesn't look starving. Where the hell does he keep coming from? I was stroking him after my shift, and he put up with it for about two minutes before swiping his claws along my arm in a very I don't see any more beef in that hand of yours, so dangle kind of manner. Some of the staff wanted to tempt him into the building. What's that about? Where is he going to go for starters, let alone the hygiene concerns and all that. Clearly from this reasoning, I am too sensible, and they are too taken in by fur.
Decided after much deliberation with people that the best movie of the last ten years was the Coen Brothers' O Brother, Where Are Thou? (2000). Hard to explain why. Just ticked a lot of boxes for me. I'm sure there have been 'greater' films in the last ten years (for want of a better word) but I'm just in total admiration of it, not least because of Chris Thomas King's cover of Skip James's Hard Time Killing Floor Blues. This is a song to drown to, and I have done a lot recently.
By coincidence, I showed O Brother at the Gulbenkian recently. I also came downstairs that night to find a giant hand-painted tapestry depicting scenes from the film hanging over the windows. There was also a few country musicians performing in the cafe. Weird, unexpected evening. Good start to the year, though. A continuation of nice things to come, let's hope.
Got three essays back: 63% for Media (better than 40% last term..), and I also got 76% for Language in Literature and 71% for Theories of Discourse and Culture. The TDC is the one I'm most happy about. That was a hard essay. Deconstructionism is a tough gooch, no matter which way you wax it. However, the source material (Raymond Carver's So Much Water So Close To Home) was something I have profound interest in. There's something about Carver's stories that almost gives away the fact he died young. I know that's a strange thing to say - they're not suicidal or anything. It's just that Carver wrote stories where everything is forthcoming, and characters seem at ease with this. This is also something I myself am beginning to understand; dwelling on the past. What's the point? If you're here now, you're here now, and the future is forthcoming, but you're here now. My degree is happening now. My PGCE is forthcoming. Where ever I end up after I get out of this very small town is forthcoming. Has anything ever been so tender on the mind?
Other news; got a new tattoo (pics to follow) inspired by the cover to Michael Marshall Smith's SF thriller, Spares. The idea came about when I was sat, turning 32, in the Yorkshire House pub back in the Shire with Ted and Dominic, and I recalled that about 10 years and 1 week to that day I'd been recommended it by a friend. Since then, pretty much every single person I know (especially ex-projectionists) have gone out and read it and loved it. I can seriously see several people back home getting a similar tattoo now - Aidan and Ted for starters. After I got it done I sent them the template and said 'Ok, your turn'. They're getting theirs next week. Almost feels like we're forming a cult.
Charlotte is addicted to Pac Man. She seemed almost genuinely furious when I first showed her the various free online versions you can play, knowing full well that she would be instantly hooked. I often get home late to hear the inimitable wakakakaka of the pill-popping wazzack, followed by shouts of despair and 'Fuck you Pinky' emanating from the front room. She even got a Pac Man mug for Christmas, which hasn't actually got Pac Man on it. Bit strange.
Read a couple of books recently which have had the odd effect of making me well up because of a powerful relation I've found with the protagonists. It's a strange feeling, and it means I'm either finding, by sheer coincidence, books that seem to tap into something emotionally sensitive about myself, or that I'm looking too hard for any kind of relatable symbolism. Probably a bit of both. Anyway, I found the character Karl in Michael Moorcock's Behold The Man (1969) highly interesting. I think he displayed an honesty in men that not many are prepared to admit. I also read Haruki Murakami's South Of The Border, West Of The Sun (1992). First Murakami book I'd read in a long time (seven months is long for me), I can always rely on his books to say something to me. How gruesomely self-indulgent I find reading at times. I positively wallow.
Saw Richard Herring performing Hitler Moustache at the Horsebridge Arts Centre, Whitstable last Saturday. Another fine 90 minutes of stand-up. Always an interesting mix of people there too. People like Richard Herring always manage to bring fans out of the woodwork I notice.
Stay off the drink and drugs, kids.
Sleep isn't coming home any time soon, and I'm tired of waiting up for it. Keep checking the time, but it hardly makes me feel any better. Weather today was the colour of gravestones. Still, work was peaceful and passed swiftly, and I've written 2850 words of a 4000 word essay in just over 24 hours, so, when I'm actually done complaining about meteorological events that I have no control over, I have to concede that it's been a good day.
Had a 10-hour power cut yesterday that scuppered my original essay-writing plans. If I can't stick to my original preparations, I feel as if it's all going to turn to hell. Maybe a residual element of this carried into today, hence the weather-based foreboding. Anyway, that was a very long power cut. I drove to Asda and bought candles (seems like half of Hales Place had the same idea as me only hours before, because all that was left was posh, lightly-scented ones that did the job, but gave the house a sort of Gothic/amateur porn video look). I went and sat in the office at work, then I stayed over at Fran and Chiara's, all in order to continue with the essay. Managed to chip away at it quite well.
It's always the same with essays; I make reams of multicoloured notes, emphatically digging out all the information, and when it comes to putting it all into a decipherable entity I suddenly feel something along the lines of 'Oh my god, I've researched the wrong thing!' or 'Oh my god, this is completely illegible!' I browse the Internet for a few minutes, then I get going. Once I've made the leap from daunting slab of marble to first chip of the sculpture (not trying to say my essays are works of art or anything quite so sanctimonious) I am very much away.
..oh god, just had a flicker in the lights..
.. power might go out again soon..
.. I don't think those Scottish 100% quarter pounder beefburgers with herbs will last another half-defrosting..
Anyway, nothing I can do about it. I wonder if Fran and Chiara are still up and about..?
I've wanted very much this week to get up early and go swimming each morning, but lack of sleep has prevented me from achieving this. I remember the last term of my first year was enriched by daily trips to the swimming baths, followed by hard revision and essay work, all of which made me happily fall asleep by midnight ready to do it all again the next day. This year so far, the earliest I've found myself nodding off has been 2am - the latest, 6:15am. This is not good enough if I want to be up by 7:30am. And, yes, it's true; the older I get the more sleep I need. I think, if I can't get up that early, I need to do things to make myself very tired like running around the block (or at least walking even further). It seems that just having the occasional anxiety attack isn't actually what qualifies as exercise. Of course, the last term was in the summer, so that was enough to make me want to be up and about nice and early. This weather makes me just want to dash from one sofa to the next in as quick a time as possible. I will pick up some exercise soon and I will stop wasting your time with this.
Whenever I do feel out of sorts, I find that something usually comes my way that brings me out of it with a shock, reminding me why I do what I do. Reminding me how to adore things all over again. It's my nature to get deep into the things that don't need such depth, but it is also my nature to come out the other side electric with that which surrounds me. I've had conversations recently with people that have just come along and reminded me of everything all at once.
I need you to know that our talking means everything to me, it's the reason why I keep going.
Facts, desires, sleeping patterns.
What offends you?
House mate's bizarre nocturnal habits.
Dreams about losing teeth.
That perfume again.
Good car journey.
Mutual respect.
Do you think you could work here?
That Raymond Carver story again.
Giggling under my duvet.
Fear of judgement over the phone.
An album bought and an album loved.
How long since we spoke?
Do we need to take things this seriously?
Calm now.
Just keep quiet for a moment.
The power might cut out any second.
Just keep quiet for a moment.
Keep it up.
A brief pictorial run-down of the last two bastard weeks:
An epic day of Doctor Who and concerning foodstuffs (note the burgers with waffles, melted cheese and chili ketchup above) with a good friend before heading home the next morning..
Let's get ready to ramble! Christmas morning atop Pontsford Hill (usual chilly routine of dad's) with neighbours Mark and Alan. Tin of chocolates had been left at the top by 'Grandad'. The chocolates were molar-fracturingly cold..
Wished I'd remembered to bring my camera home for this. The Wrekin, as viewed from Pontesford Hill, 9:05am Christmas morning. The mist surrounding the base of it makes it look dramatically mountainous (but it isn't a mountain it's a massive hill and nothing more so don't believe any exaggerating locals)..
Superb Christmas gift from mother - a make-your-own plasticine Morph! A genuine childhood hero. Here his is lovingly recreated precisely as he appeared in the short animated adventures I watched as a child after school. No difference whatsoever...
Ben and Ted, 27th December. It was decided at this moment that, should I die young, they promised to turn up to my funeral in full Nazi officer uniforms. No real reason, just to detract from any sadness, I suppose..
The journey home was 4 1/2 hours of precarious snow-covered crawling back to Canterbury. Never before has any godforsaken services looked to pretty...
First night back. Chiara, looking like an erotic hot drinks advert..
Handsome devil, ready to take on term 2, 2009/2010. The painting behind me hangs on dad's front room wall. It is truly immense.
Zaffie
Chiara
Kenny
Zaffie
Chiara
Kenny
Mils
Kenny & Francesca
