Cocktail Of The Day

The Rusty Nail 1 oz Scotch Whiskey 1 oz Drambue Pour over ice cubes and stir.

There's A Line...

...And you just stepped over it. You know you're not supposed to be reading this sort of thing - it isn't in your character. You read things that are well thought out, and about things that interest you. Why are you surfing a page with articles about Nazism and crass language? But I suppose I can't criticise you too harshly. You're surfing the net, and if I assume you're a little more than a casual surfer, then you're probably on the right side of the line between exploring the net thoroughly and scraping a hole in the bottom of the virtual barrel. There's a line here. There's a line there. Sometimes, it can be difficult to tell where one ends and another begins. But I think the hardest thing for most people is working out how to take a step without stepping over one of the multitude of lines that govern every aspect of your life. Wow, extended metaphor or what. Well you can more or less stop worrying about the patterns on your carpet for now - when I say lines, I'm talking about the borders of society, culture and your person. There are barriers, suggested or enforced, that form an idea of the model citizen. The category you fall into - age, sex, ethnic background, religion, income and so on - all dictate which stereotype you should conform to. You should be eating certain foods, discussing certain topics (with certain people, of course) and dreaming certain dreams. If you're not, well then you're overstepping a line somewhere or other. Thinking about wearing a swastika on your arm? Think again - that isn't what people are expecting of you. Considering bringing up Ian McEwan's latest epic at the next football match? I'd advise against it - you're supposed to be doing other things. When you look at life in that way - a mess of borders and decision gates where you need to try and find the small, elusive spot that plants you in everyone's good books - you begin to rebel against the barriers that stop you from getting to that sweet spot. Tear down those barriers! That's what socialism, feminism and virtually everyone in the 1970's is (and was) searching for. In Philip Larkin's poem High Windows he talks about their pursuit for the 'paradise' of a world with no rules and free love. "And everyone young going down the long slide/To happiness, endlessly." But there is a warning to his liberating description. How much do you want to break down those barriers? Do you want to be able to do everything you want? Of course you do. Everyone does, deep down inside. But the fear that we often overlook - the reason Larkin's slide points 'down' instead of climbing up - is the fear that everyone else must be able to do what they want for it to work. Anarchy, no matter what philosophers like Kropotkin might tell you, just doesn't work. So what then? Sit down and shut up, accept the borders of society and live with them? Well I won't deny that it isn't a possibility. In fact, it is probably the best course of action. But look further - look beyond. At the close of High Windows Larking says "Rather than words comes the thought of High Windows/...the deep blue air, that shows/Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless." The point is that the boundaries allow us to define who we are. What is better? Complete anarchy, or the ability to express ourselves (albeit in a limited way, but undeniably safely) within a society? by all means, step past a few boundaries. Ignore a few warning signs. I don't think smoking would be a great idea, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do it. Makes choices that define your character and embrace the lines. Embrace the barriers. This is so easy providing you are wholehearted about making the decision of what side to be on for yourself. Considering Emo? Think brutally. Allow the choice to make tomorrow a more defining day for your character than yesterday.

"This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."

Dear Blog

Today is a day of mixed emotions. If you're interested (and being an online web server for people to store random collections of thoughts and images on, you probably won't) today's word of the day is PERINEUM courtesy of the oddly-inspiring Joseph Roth. And yes, it probably was taken out of context. You know what else? I think I'm believing less and less in God every day. No... that's the wrong way to put it. I'm believing less and less in religion every day. Today a friend I always walk home with was attacked by three children of Satan on the way home from school. It was a rare day, where I leave an hour earlier than him and thus don't walk the same route as him. Thankfully, he is alright. But I felt horribly, horribly responsible. It's strange, because as I dwelled on my part in his ordeal... I fell upon the topic of God. Did He direct me along another path? Did He choose to save me tonight? No. Of course he didn't. Don't be stupid. But to the believer, it seems like justification. God intervened, or so it would seem. Call it providence - call it what you will - but my absence seemed to be a very unlikely coincidence. I tried to tell myself this but - unusually - my rational side leapt back in with the retort. What coincidences aren't unlikely? The problem with the concept of God's Divine Intervention is that people never accept that the most blindingly obvious and simple explanation is often very true. Religion sucks. In Dogma, the thirteenth apostle (yes, yes I know) is talking to the last descendent of Jesus (yes, yes I KNOW). "The problem with people on earth is that they had a really good idea, and then they tried to build a belief structure around it." he says. It's sharp, and to the point, but altogether lost amidst a scene which includes two drunk angels being tossed off a train. What am I trying to say? You're probably trying to ask that question, even if you're only whispering it at the back of your mind. Well, as I look up at what I've just written, I want to ask it to. I think... I think what I want to say to you all is that you should be confident with what you think the world is like. You need to ground yourself in reality, a reality of your own making. You need to give form to your beliefs, give direction to your dreams. Become the master of your own future. If you don't have the foundations to life, there's no need to worry about what colour the walls are going to be painted. Something like that. Now where did I put that Perineum...

Z..z..zz.z.zzz..zzzzzz

Just a short note to say that tiredness is the most tiring thing that a person can undergo. And I can't be bothered to be tired any more - I just don't have the energy for it. So I'm off to bed. Maybe I can sleep the lethargy off. G'night y'all.

Cocktail Of The Day

The Ever-Popular Brown Cow 1 Measure Coke 1 Measure Milk Mix, stir, and drink immediately. Works best with Vanilla Coke. Do not use ice.

Happy To Help

We've been warned by the (wo)men in charge of Blogger not to bring our occupations into our blogs. But... well... sometimes it's just a little hard to resist, is it not? I don't want to offend anyone, I don't want to reveal anything. But working in a convenience store - there are a few things that simply need to be said. Firstly - Don't throw money at me. If you're buying a packet of crips, don't shove a ten-pound note in my face before I've even scanned it. Do you not care if I say it's going to cost a fiver? Of course you care. Secondly - When I offer you a bag, do not say 'If you've got one'. What kind of shop would it be if we didn't? How many do you think I give out each day? I've got five hundred swimming around my feet. You want two? Go nuts. Thirdly - Don't ever ask me if I'm having a good day. Ever. The word 'convenient' is for people like you, not me. Thankyou, and have a wonderful day.

BOOBIES!!!

The word is smiling innocently up at me from the desk. Boobies. It's funny, I think to myself, because its true. Boobies. Audacious, daring, full of uncontrollable wit. Those seven letters which raise two fingers to The System and flick a V-Sign at the sexual taboos of our society today. Or maybe it's just some kid who thinks the word 'boobies' is funny. Whichever.

Off With His Head!

To put things bluntly, no-one likes a Nazi. There's a sort of stigma attached there (and understandably so), one that links in quite a strong way to the massacre of millions of Jews, homosexuals and gypsies, as well as the general invasion of an entire continent. Not only that, but since these events are within living memory. And so, dressing up like a Nazi and strutting around - well, that's on a par with showing off your new heavy-Goth spouse to your devoutly catholic parents. Or something along those lines. And so to Prince Harry. Now you see, when you look back at my nicely structured argument, you can almost (almost, mind) sympathise with the action that's being taken against him after his rather overt dress sense at a party earlier this week. However, there are a few things people don't quite seem to understand. Now, I might disapprove of Harry as much as the next person, but I do feel somehow that there are a few things one should note:

• He's a twenty-year-old and it's the sort of thing you do.
• Especially if you're going to a party.
• Especially if the party is with your closest friends.
• Especially if the party is a fancy dress party.

You see? Doesn't the argument seem a little less balanced at that point? Well, let's go on a little further. Why not. Let's now imagine how we would feel if you woke up, wandered into your nearest newsagent, and saw headlines varying from ones which call you a Nazi, through ones which insult your father, ending up with a nice little one about how your girlfriend is going to dump you in a little over seven hours. And then you read through, and you discover that your friends have sold their stories (and part of their souls) to brainless tabloid reporters keen to suck all they can from the story, and that your father and your girlfriend are having their first (and last) argument via the medium of the Sun's headlines. And that's before they start dragging your deceased mother into the argument.

At what point does our critique of the aristocracy become a violation of personal privacy? How would you feel if all of that descended on you? Step back a few centuries. This would not only be considered treason, but there would be many, many heads rolling - and probably at Harry's behest. If the people of this country insist on stripping all the rights and powers of the monarchy, they could at least leave them alone once they've been reduced to the average person. Who in this country actually believes that Harry meant it offensively? Did he think he was making a political statement? Was he alerting the BNP to his presence, and somehow stating that he backs their points? Of course he wasn't! He slapped a swastika on his arm. It was funny. It was thought-provoking in some retracted, bizarre way. What it wasn't intended to be was offensive. And if it hadn't been plastered over the front covers of the press the next morning, it would have offended no-one.

Please - a message to the population of this country. Go get a life. Watch Big Brother if you really have to. Pointing and tutting at the royal family is a pretty laughable way of killing time. When he's good, no-one remembers (helping send off Tsunami aid, anyone?) - when he's bad, no-one forgets.