Home. She pondered the word and its meaning, its appropriateness in describing the place she shared with him, the two bedroom fortress she resided in was a haven for silent arguments and memorabilia of past conquests. Her mind waded through childhood memories, of family, shared meals, of the warmth and security that came with being part of a home, of being able to draw comfort in the familiar, a place that offered reciprocal love and devotion. Nope. Her current abode was not a home. Far from it. It once had the potential to become one but that time had passed.
As she cruised the Northern Line to its most southern tip, she reflected on the last 18 months and what had started out as a colourful and care-free situation, had turned into a loveless chore, a routine brimming with self-sacrifice and muted feelings, a relationship built on middle ground and a failure to courageously articulate truths. She knew she had loved him, no doubt there. She knew that she cared for him in ways she had never come to care for men in the past but at some stage, that unbridled passion had transpired leaving emotional debris in its wake.
“THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE.”
The all too familiar monotone voice of the capital’s transport system struck her back into reality. She scanned the carriage and saw the backs of the nations’ workforce alighting the train, briefcases and backpacks in tow, leaving behind a stream of newspapers, confectionary wrappings and the potent aroma of a semi-hard days graft and with that, she made her way out of the carriage, up the escalator and into the busying road outside.
The day’s grey skies had developed a red tinge, one that set the skies ablaze with hope and beauty. She sauntered through the bustling suburb, past the array of estate agents and newsagents, all the while, her heart fixated on the rose-tinted heavens, wishing time away. Before she knew it, she was at the front door quivering with avoidance. She stood motionless, gazing at the white-washed door, sturdy and defensive. She wanted to run, to flee the mediocrity that was waiting for her on the other side. She couldn’t bare to see him, his pathetic little face and his endless gestures that were laced with sentiment but at its core, were rotten and evasive. For she believed that he knew it too, that 18 months, had been 8 months too long, the joy had evaporated and like aging rock-stars, they were trapped, clinging to days of former glory, days when she would smile in his presence, nights when she would please him. But now, it had all dissolved and all that remained were the fragments of lost love and unspoken truths.
She turned around and faced the houses opposite, thinking of the life that could have been, the opportunities for love and lust that had flown by. Her heart sank, for she knew she could not leave him, her guilt would imprison the pair of them. Her eyes were once again drawn to the crimson skies above, with its promise and potential, She liked the beautiful sky, it being something so majestic, that the whole city could appreciate its amorous nature. This thought comforted her, but as her gaze trickled downwards onto the life in front of her, the routines and doctrines that constructed the lives of those that inhabited the city, she sighed. She had come to the conclusion that optimism and hope was reserved for the heavens because here on earth, we lived the predictable, we revelled in the status quo and subscribed to the human agenda. And with that, she turned to face the door once more, put her key in the door and entered her life.
27 October 2009
23 October 2009
5 hours and counting...
For the past week, I have been engaged in numerous conversations regarding one Nick Griffin, who has somehow managed to shift from cult to celebrity status amid the public’s concern over his appearance on Question Time.
As I pen this, there is exactly five hours and counting until he graces the stage, to a barrage of ‘boos’ and wanton chants of “get off, “ “racist” and “evil,” and like the celebrity he has become, he will smile and take it all in his stride, for he, has arrived.
No-one can dispute that his appearance on Question Time is monumental, but the real wonder will be what he says after the heckling, how he articulates his ideas and how well, if at all, he manages to capture the public, for you see, with Nick Griffin on set, spouting his Nationalist manifesto of British this and English that, immigration this and white working class that, the true measure of his impact will be the discussions the public has after, both in public and in private.
Having him on stage not only elevates him and his party, it also forces us to face our own prejudices and insecurities, it forces us to look at our own conduct and beliefs and assess just how far, or near, our actions and beliefs are in sync with Mr Griffin’s own, and whether there is even any correlation between our actions and our convictions.
Earlier today I watched the demonstrations outside the BBC studios and was amazed by the sheer volume of people enraged by this whole fiasco, but I had to ask myself, how many of these people have made snide, racist remarks? Behind closed doors, how many feel that all black men are gun-slinging-knife-wielding madmen, how many greet their EU counterparts, who come to this country in search of a better tomorrow, with consideration and cheer? How many, enclosed in comfortable and private conversations, have mocked their colleague who chooses to don a burkha? Hopefully none, but if that figure is wrong, then why the outrage, why the protest? Maybe Nick Griffin really is our own Ghost of Christmas Present, sent to haunt us with visions of our own internal prejudices and discriminations, and the hatred we so overtly hurl at him is nothing more than transference, for if we embrace the fact that we agree with his rhetoric, that we find some comfort and hope in his policies, maybe we are not the egalitarians we once thought we were. Maybe.
So as the electorate protests and prepares to burn him in effigy, I ask that we allow the crowds to disperse, for silence and normality to reign and then focus on the conversations after, for that will be the true measure of us all.
As I pen this, there is exactly five hours and counting until he graces the stage, to a barrage of ‘boos’ and wanton chants of “get off, “ “racist” and “evil,” and like the celebrity he has become, he will smile and take it all in his stride, for he, has arrived.
No-one can dispute that his appearance on Question Time is monumental, but the real wonder will be what he says after the heckling, how he articulates his ideas and how well, if at all, he manages to capture the public, for you see, with Nick Griffin on set, spouting his Nationalist manifesto of British this and English that, immigration this and white working class that, the true measure of his impact will be the discussions the public has after, both in public and in private.
Having him on stage not only elevates him and his party, it also forces us to face our own prejudices and insecurities, it forces us to look at our own conduct and beliefs and assess just how far, or near, our actions and beliefs are in sync with Mr Griffin’s own, and whether there is even any correlation between our actions and our convictions.
Earlier today I watched the demonstrations outside the BBC studios and was amazed by the sheer volume of people enraged by this whole fiasco, but I had to ask myself, how many of these people have made snide, racist remarks? Behind closed doors, how many feel that all black men are gun-slinging-knife-wielding madmen, how many greet their EU counterparts, who come to this country in search of a better tomorrow, with consideration and cheer? How many, enclosed in comfortable and private conversations, have mocked their colleague who chooses to don a burkha? Hopefully none, but if that figure is wrong, then why the outrage, why the protest? Maybe Nick Griffin really is our own Ghost of Christmas Present, sent to haunt us with visions of our own internal prejudices and discriminations, and the hatred we so overtly hurl at him is nothing more than transference, for if we embrace the fact that we agree with his rhetoric, that we find some comfort and hope in his policies, maybe we are not the egalitarians we once thought we were. Maybe.
So as the electorate protests and prepares to burn him in effigy, I ask that we allow the crowds to disperse, for silence and normality to reign and then focus on the conversations after, for that will be the true measure of us all.
17 October 2009
Form 696
As someone who once reveled in nights out and can appreciate the benefits of enjoying the music and culture you hold dear among your peers and fellow die-hard fans, it was with great disappointment and rage that I read the changes made to Form 696.
Form 696 is a risk assessment that club promoters and the like must complete before holding events. The information is forwarded to the Metropolitan Police, who then run detailed checks on the performers and the events they have played at in the past, and from that, they assess the level of threat and violence that the proposed night holds.
In it's infancy,the form was to ask for the ethnicity of the performers, their age, their real names and other information that many, artists, promoters and fans alike thought both intrusive and a hinderance to the future of live music in the capital. To some, the notion of having to state the ethnicity of the performers reeked of racism, with many clubbers forseeing an attack on clubs and events with a large black population.
After much speculation and lobbying from the Musicians' Union, Form 696 was revised. The need for ethnicity information has been purged as has the focus on live events, instead the focus of the form will be events that take place between 10pm and 4am, in nightclubs or bars, have been promoted well in advance and last but not least, events that feature DJ's or MC's performing to a backing track. What this means, is that clubnights ("raves" for those old enough to remember all-night nirvanas in air warehouses and soundsystems) will in effect be under fierce attack, to the point where many skeptics and forum fiends believe that clubland will in effect die out.
For example, there is a popular garage night that runs between those hours and beyond in a club and because of the nature of that particular scene's culture, hearing an MC over a backing track, (which I have interpreted to mean DJ set or live PA) these clubnights may be no more. Similarly, a thriving clubnight that takes place in the bustling City district, has a similar criteria, again, because of the changes madein Form 696, these nights could be at death's door. This in theory could also be applied to concerts, with artists being refused shows for fear of leaving the promoters in violation of Form 696. As we speak, I am mulling over why the "MC" tag has been thrown in. One could speculate, that had it not, clubland in its entirety, (which would include those in the heart of the city, which play host to professional athletes and the woman that hunt them) would dissolve over night. Hmmmm.
These of course could be seen as nothing more than doomsday prophecies from one of the planets more darker theorists but I believe they are not. As we speak, a grime rave, due to commence in a weeks' time, is currently under fire and in fear of cancellation because of Form 696 (the hold up being that one of the performers has a criminal record), which if it is cancelled, is yet another blow to a scene that runs into difficulty when trying to secure clubnights (and everyone wonders why some of the scenes brightest and best decide to make saccharin-drenched-synth-laden-numbers.)
This is something that troubles me greatly, not because it is an attack on a particular type of music, not because it may be seen as an attack on a particular race/creed/group of people, but simply because this is something that will only get worse, it will only lead to confused and energetic young people, who in their attempts to blow off steam may just land themselves in situations that will do them no good.
So if you are someone who has ever enjoyed a clubnight, please, read the changes made to Form 696 and if you have an opinion, if it troubles you, if it makes you think about the memorable nights spent with friends, basking in the glow of strobe lights and cutting a rug until the early hours of the morning, then please, use your voice, tell someone, anyone, tweet them, poke them, use your status update if you see fit, but do something, for I fear that at some stage in the not to distant future, even that may be something that we no longer have jurisdiction over.
For more information, read here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/8309690.stm
PS: if I am wrong or misinformed, feel free to correct me, it is the only way I'll learn.
Form 696 is a risk assessment that club promoters and the like must complete before holding events. The information is forwarded to the Metropolitan Police, who then run detailed checks on the performers and the events they have played at in the past, and from that, they assess the level of threat and violence that the proposed night holds.
In it's infancy,the form was to ask for the ethnicity of the performers, their age, their real names and other information that many, artists, promoters and fans alike thought both intrusive and a hinderance to the future of live music in the capital. To some, the notion of having to state the ethnicity of the performers reeked of racism, with many clubbers forseeing an attack on clubs and events with a large black population.
After much speculation and lobbying from the Musicians' Union, Form 696 was revised. The need for ethnicity information has been purged as has the focus on live events, instead the focus of the form will be events that take place between 10pm and 4am, in nightclubs or bars, have been promoted well in advance and last but not least, events that feature DJ's or MC's performing to a backing track. What this means, is that clubnights ("raves" for those old enough to remember all-night nirvanas in air warehouses and soundsystems) will in effect be under fierce attack, to the point where many skeptics and forum fiends believe that clubland will in effect die out.
For example, there is a popular garage night that runs between those hours and beyond in a club and because of the nature of that particular scene's culture, hearing an MC over a backing track, (which I have interpreted to mean DJ set or live PA) these clubnights may be no more. Similarly, a thriving clubnight that takes place in the bustling City district, has a similar criteria, again, because of the changes madein Form 696, these nights could be at death's door. This in theory could also be applied to concerts, with artists being refused shows for fear of leaving the promoters in violation of Form 696. As we speak, I am mulling over why the "MC" tag has been thrown in. One could speculate, that had it not, clubland in its entirety, (which would include those in the heart of the city, which play host to professional athletes and the woman that hunt them) would dissolve over night. Hmmmm.
These of course could be seen as nothing more than doomsday prophecies from one of the planets more darker theorists but I believe they are not. As we speak, a grime rave, due to commence in a weeks' time, is currently under fire and in fear of cancellation because of Form 696 (the hold up being that one of the performers has a criminal record), which if it is cancelled, is yet another blow to a scene that runs into difficulty when trying to secure clubnights (and everyone wonders why some of the scenes brightest and best decide to make saccharin-drenched-synth-laden-numbers.)
This is something that troubles me greatly, not because it is an attack on a particular type of music, not because it may be seen as an attack on a particular race/creed/group of people, but simply because this is something that will only get worse, it will only lead to confused and energetic young people, who in their attempts to blow off steam may just land themselves in situations that will do them no good.
So if you are someone who has ever enjoyed a clubnight, please, read the changes made to Form 696 and if you have an opinion, if it troubles you, if it makes you think about the memorable nights spent with friends, basking in the glow of strobe lights and cutting a rug until the early hours of the morning, then please, use your voice, tell someone, anyone, tweet them, poke them, use your status update if you see fit, but do something, for I fear that at some stage in the not to distant future, even that may be something that we no longer have jurisdiction over.
For more information, read here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi
PS: if I am wrong or misinformed, feel free to correct me, it is the only way I'll learn.
5 October 2009
A promise is a comfort to a fool.
A referendum on the Lisbon Treaty has been a hotly debated topic in recent years and has resulted in the creation of blogs, lobbyists and the inevitable Facebook groups. The treaty, which is seen as a constitution in the eyes of some, moves towards a unified and single Europe, a positive in the eyes of many, as it aims to improve cooperation between member states, gives residents of said member states the opportunity to travel and work between member states and generally acts as a safeguard and a preemptive strike at inter-European conflicts. Skeptics however, believe that the treaty diminishes the powers of our leaders in Whitehall, with many important decisions being made by MEPs and Euro regulators in Brussels, all of which was signed off and agreed to by the Labour party.
Promising a public vote on whether to accept or reject the treaty was one of the catalysts for David Cameron fever, who was able to adopt a liberal stance by supporting the need for public debate (left...check) while seen to be championing the preservation of national interests (right...check.) But many months and soundbites later, it seems that the referendum may no longer be an option. I suppose at this juncture, it would be fitting to talk about the Irish.
Ireland, in a tide of patriotism, rejected the Lisbon Treaty, which meant that they were flooded with lobbyists (well done for not joining), EU pressure (you better join or else,) and as if the God's themselves had a hand in their fate, they were held hostage by a flagging economy during the worlds economic torpor (you have no choice but to join), so it surprised me very little, to learn that in their referendum, they voted for the treaty, and with Poland and other dissenters about to follow suit and enter the warm and ever vigilant embrace of the Treaty, a referendum may no longer be an option in the UK as it would be seen as "stalling developments" because the treaty would have been ratified by the 27 member states, a majority rules principle, democracy, yay!
But while democracy may have won the battle, politics has won the war, for David Cameron, who may well be one of the smartest operatives since the SMERSH organisation, has managed to satisfy multiple political bases, both at home and abroad and will never have to act on his original manifesto. Politics well played Sir.
David 1
The Country 0
Promising a public vote on whether to accept or reject the treaty was one of the catalysts for David Cameron fever, who was able to adopt a liberal stance by supporting the need for public debate (left...check) while seen to be championing the preservation of national interests (right...check.) But many months and soundbites later, it seems that the referendum may no longer be an option. I suppose at this juncture, it would be fitting to talk about the Irish.
Ireland, in a tide of patriotism, rejected the Lisbon Treaty, which meant that they were flooded with lobbyists (well done for not joining), EU pressure (you better join or else,) and as if the God's themselves had a hand in their fate, they were held hostage by a flagging economy during the worlds economic torpor (you have no choice but to join), so it surprised me very little, to learn that in their referendum, they voted for the treaty, and with Poland and other dissenters about to follow suit and enter the warm and ever vigilant embrace of the Treaty, a referendum may no longer be an option in the UK as it would be seen as "stalling developments" because the treaty would have been ratified by the 27 member states, a majority rules principle, democracy, yay!
But while democracy may have won the battle, politics has won the war, for David Cameron, who may well be one of the smartest operatives since the SMERSH organisation, has managed to satisfy multiple political bases, both at home and abroad and will never have to act on his original manifesto. Politics well played Sir.
David 1
The Country 0
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