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|Monday, December 10th, 2007|
I need to get a paper notebook and try harder not to lose it this time. Which is another way of saying I don't intend to post here again.
(3 wasted moments bore me)
|Tuesday, November 27th, 2007|
I've felt a little better the last few weeks. I feel bad about my last post. I don't mean to alarm anyone; I'm in no rush, and intend to give antidepressants and counselling a try, even though they strike me as distasteful. Still having ethical issues though; obviously hedonism of any form is right out as a workable system to live by (and with it most consequentialist systems) and that leaves virtue ethics or deontological thought. The problem is that it is difficult to see what might be virtuous or a "right" action without resorting to consequences or probable consequences. Obviously none of this would be a problem if it weren't for my curiously blunted instincts; if I wanted a girlfriend, or liked my "friends" as much as I used to, or cared about my family, or still enjoyed drink and drugs and the other things money buys then no rational truth would be required, I would have a goal. As it is my body has withered away to being basically the thing that holds my head up high enough to see the monitor and it's the head which calls the shots. I have muddled through in terms of university work, at least so far, but it's not getting any easier as I hoped it would. I'm still reading plenty but passive activities of that ilk aren't enough to get through life, I need to be pro-active and to do that there have to be things I can do to make things better rather than different but the same really. Right now the thought of being on welfare all my life seems almost appealing.
Anyway, I want to write last Friday's events down, as fairly conclusive evidence that I'm not long for this world. I haven't seen Frankie for a while and he said repeatedly that he'd meet me at GC at 8 that evening. Fair enough; I stuck around town with Andrew for a while after uni ended, we ate curry and drank in a surprisingly moderate and mature way for a few hours. Hence I was barely even conscious of having drunk alcohol by the time I got to GC. Andrew waited with me for about the first hour and the drinking sped up, although I wasn't far gone by my standards yet. Shortly after he left (still no sign of Frankie) I was walking out to the back door for a cig and there was a lot of shouting and motion to my right, but given the curious self-absorption I've been afflicted with for about a week I couldn't tell who was being shouted at or what was happening. Naturally I walked past oblivious, assuming that if I didn't know what was going on it wasn't about me. Someone plucked the glasses off my face and there was more shouting (I don't know who at) but obviously being suddenly near-blind I was even more confused and stood stock still, not even aware enough to be afraid or angry. I don't know how long I was zoned out like that but the next thing I knew I was stood a few paces away, unhurt but still without my glasses, and the bouncers were asking if I was ok- when I'd gathered my wits as much as possible I asked what had happened. They said I'd been menaced by chavs, who they threw out, and when I asked if they could see my glasses they picked them up and handed them back. I shook their hands and thanked them. The incident bothered me more because I was only slightly drunk; usually I can palm my absent-mindedness off as being purely a consequence of my heavy drinking but this was different, for an indeterminate length of time I was completely at the mercy of a bunch of grown men with playground mindsets- not even aware that I was in a dangerous situation. If one of them had pushed or hit me I'd have been helpless, I can be a vicious bastard with my glasses on but without I wouldn't even know who did it a second later. Anyway that turned out about as well as it could've done, I wasn't hurt and got my glasses back, but there's no guarantee that similar things won't keep happening and that when they do I won't have any lucky escapes.
Anyway I was a bit shaken by that but had my friends turned up afterwards it would still have been a good night. They didn't though and it was long past ten that I waited, with only Chris to talk to... he was a little morose and had problems of his own so we didn't make a great conversational pairing. Eventually I realised they weren't going to show up, with the attendant misery and feelings of worthlessness, and decided to go to Fab Café, motivated by a nameless yet very familiar feeling in my gut which had nothing to do with socialising and everything to do with inability to return to home, sobriety and real life. I got there and ordered a couple of drinks, things start to blur and I think I might have embarrassed myself attempting to dance. Nothing is very clear but next I remember it was later and a nice girl whose face and name I don't remember was helping me find my bag and writing me her email address. I intend to send her an email later today, although searching myspace and facebook didn't yield any info so I'll have to just wing it. If anything I have too many friends and social commitments but it makes no sense to be rude to someone just because by chance they met you later than the people you're polite to. Anyway I lost my new coat that evening- it contained a housekey and baccy, but no ID thankfully- and I don't remember how I got home. I don't blame Frankie for all this, but if he'd turned up- or if he'd warned me that he wasn't going to- it probably wouldn't have happened.
The sum total of all this is that I spent money I couldn't really afford on having it reiterated that I'm vulnerable in ways that have nothing to do with my matchstick arms and glass jaw. It seems that my recent paranoia and reluctance to engage with the outside world is mostly justified, and that I can't really be allowed out without adult supervision. I don't know if there's any medication for this or any cognitive techniques more advanced than those stupid nursery rhymes about paedophiles they teach children but I lost over £500 worth of coats, books and electronics last year and absent-mindedness this severe is a luxury that I can't allow myself. I suppose I need help.
Aside from that, on Sunday I went to grandma's and stayed over, and I'm still tired and sick because she only has food that I'm intolerant to. I did get a lot of reading done though. I still need to buy my mother and Ben birthday presents but I don't want to leave the house more than necessary until my stomach sorts itself out. Some of my friends want to meet up and I don't know what will happen when I meet my particular favourites, maybe I'll feel better or maybe I won't and will feel all the more dead on account of my indifference to people I get on very well with in healthier states. I suppose I won't know until it happens. Venny wants to meet up as well, she's sent me some very sweet messages on facebook, I was probably overly harsh in what I said before.
(1 wasted moment bore me)
|Monday, October 8th, 2007|
Guess I should update in case anyone still reads this. I lost the second cashcard in a month last time I went out, possibly in circumstances where someone could be tapping my account. I also made a dick of myself to Eli, Robbie and possibly others. Only just worked up the courage to call the lost card line now and the line was busy. Uni's not going so well (as in, I didn't go last week) and I've been more depressed than usual, to the point where I think I'm going to ask for help and/or medication. I don't care any more if that shit distorts my personality; perhaps some freaks look handsome in a funhouse mirror. I feel both lonely and avoidant and some things distract me from the inner blackness but nothing makes it better. I think about killing myself more than usual; the largest of our kitchen knives through the heart would be quite certain, moderately painful and faster than an overdose, I'd prefer hanging ideally but I don't know where I'd get strong rope and if I didn't do the knot properly I'd suffocate rather than breaking my neck. Slitting wrists just doesn't work and digging for the carotid is risky at best so for knife-based options one through the heart is best. The main thing that's stopped me is that people might think I was copying Elliott Smith. Last night for a few minutes my depression actually manifested physically, I was suddenly frozen, shaking and seized with self-hatred and desperation. It could've been a panic attack but I wasn't panicking precisely, more angry. There was fear too but only just enough to hold the rest in check. I do want to live, I just don't have any reasons to. The book is going nowhere, I've recorded a couple of ideas for cast, scenes and themes but have yet to write a line of actual prose. I'm beginning to question the ethical implications of writing anyway. This now that I'm writing is just for my friends to keep track of me, well within the bounds of moderate vanity, but I'm beginning to see that a book criticising egoism (even tangentially, that's not projected to be the main theme) is intrinsically hypocritical. What could be more egoistic than creating art, after all? As though complete strangers ought to care about my feelings, observations, opinions, prose style. It makes the acutely self-centred exhibitionism of the most egregious myspace profile pale into insignificance. I hate that sort of person and yet my egoism dwarfs theirs. I don't think it's possible for me to create art without being a hypocrite unless I destroy it immediately afterwards, or at the very least refuse to show anyone. Alternately I could just write so badly that people would deride me, which would have a salutary effect on my ego but would still be deliberately drawing attention to myself so perhaps not. Morality is impossible to a thinking man. Logic is a razor.
|Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007|
I got so bored last week I agreed to go to the lake district with mum for a few days. Kind of wish I hadn't; lots of good food and we went to some nice places but her company was very tedious, I'd forgotten how annoying I find the excessively talkative. Also we got lost on a mountainside due to her spaztastic navigation skills (I expressed reservations about having a map which only showed half the route, she said it wouldn't matter, it did). We got back to civilisation just as night fell but it took three hours more than the six I'd expected and my legs still hurt. Also either the food (which though uniformly delicious and expensive involved lots of stuff I'm intolerant of) or the water I drank from a clear stream in the mountains has left me quite ill; feel ok at the moment but I haven't eaten today and it's been days since I felt hungry at all; before I was only eating because mum insisted we go for meals and I thought it would be unhealthy not to join in. Today even drinking a glass of water too fast resulted in a sensation of painful fullness with the threat of vomiting. Won't go into further detail because I'm sure you don't want to hear about my intestines. It wasn't all bad though. I really do hope that if I do an MA or whatever it's somewhere other than Manchester, the city does horrible things to me. I'm wasting away getting fat and scared and stupid here but in the hills every twisted ankle is a lesson in geometry made flesh, every curiously circular tarn is a goad to the intellect, thoughts seem to wander in unsolicited and of course the surroundings change slowly enough that any impression can be fixed and reduced to words whereas here everything I read online is fleeting and my reactions equally so.
Anyway I'm looking forward to uni starting again. Hopefully I'll start having ideas and opinions again when I have lectures and the stupidity of my classmates to provoke me.
|Wednesday, August 15th, 2007|
I've never really understood what a moral is. That's an odd thing for a Philosophy student to say (especially a successful one) and I know of many different moral systems but it never seems to come down to any more than volition backed by force, which is explicitly what most people deny morals are. Of course I'm not an idiot and I realise that even if that is all there is to it I can't pillage, kill and rape with impunity because other people, no matter how flawed their intellectual concepts, outnumber me and are for the most part physically stronger anyway, if perhaps a little slow of body and mind and neglectful of their senses. The fact remains that the only things I consider bad are the ones I don't want to do anyway. There's nothing I straightforwardly want to do and yet deny myself out of moral feeling; there are things I don't do because I think I'm better than the people who do them (intellectually speaking) and things I don't do because they disgust me, but the disgust is intrinsic to the act and not a quality of its juxtaposition with a moral system. Besides which disgust is sensual-emotional and not conscious or rational. The smell of grapefruit disgusts my cats but that doesn't make them moral creatures. What makes humans different and worth more consideration? Some say that humans are the rational animal, that they alone carry the burden of consciousness. This is the basis of most systems of rights that I am familiar with and the one that I will deal with here.
Recently I've been thinking about Madeleine McCann, serial killers and the Holocaust. Of the first of these, the outpourings of grief regarding the kidnapped girl strike me as being at the very least hypocritical and possibly evil*. I appreciate that this is an unusual position, but she isn't the first child or the last to go missing. The reason for the greater-than-usual press coverage in her case is perhaps that she has rich parents and went missing in Portugal, which might allow newspaper editors to hook people in with crypto-racist invective when the investigation progresses even as it decreases the relevance to British parents now. Regardless of that, people who are upset by the reports in a specific sense but not equally upset all the rest of the time, about all the children who go missing every day, are merely responding to media stimuli instinctively and betray no awareness of greater patterns and forces in sense impressions, like an animal being led into a trap. Caring about Madeleine McCann individually
is neglecting to care about all the other children who have similar atrocities perpetrated upon them but aren't exploited by our disgustingly emotive media. Another egregious symptom of this disease is the amount of money and airtime devoted to mourning Diana. I have nothing against her personally but it strikes me as incredibly counter-intuitive that Diana would be mourned so much as a result of her popularity, largely the result of her charity work, when the objects of her charity
are ignored as before. How much money and airtime went to commemorating her "great works"? More than went to actually continuing them, I'll wager. Then let's add in the fact that there are no doubt people more devoted to improving the world who aren't celebrities, or even who have become celebrities purely as a result of their activism rather than being the virgin sacrifice tied to a rock for the Leviathan to eat, who aren't mourned as much and it becomes clear that it was merely as a result of their familiarity with her- that is to say, because of the extensive media coverage of her life- that people mourn Diana. This is not only entirely irrational given that her life and death had little relevance to most people beyond what they let it have, it's actually hypocritical in that it was this unwarranted interest in someone else's affairs which motivated the paparazzi her car crashed evading.
The conclusion here is that people are irrational hypocrites, with sense but no reason- it's also possible that the suffering of that portion of the world not described in the tabloids is known to them but they don't care, but that's less likely given the general sentimentality regarding cases like Madeleine and Diana, not to mention the horrified looks I got in the cinema a couple of weeks ago when I explained my theory to mother. In fact the only rational, objective way to show compassion is via complete misanthropy- perhaps a paradox but when you accept that a little girl going missing is not an isolated incident but the way of the world and that if you really claim to care about humanity as a whole rather than just your friends and family every waking second of your life should be spent bowed under the weight of universal suffering, then you start wondering why others don't seem to be feeling it. In fact those who claim to care for the most part don't actually think for ten seconds about what isn't shown on TV. Empathy is seen in the higher animals, it must be allied with reason to differentiate humanity. It isn't. Universal rights are empty, nonsense, impossible to live by. Liberalism "freed" us from religion only to leave us enslaved by crass desires, no different from animals. Compassion is faulty. If anything humans are of less account morally, because the fact that they are capable of more makes them doubly disgusting for choosing the same. Being reasonable about compassion would make you inhuman and ironically also make humanity unworthy of your compassion.
The sad fact is that most people are cattle, and most of those who aren't are wolves. I had something to write about the circumstances under which serial killing might be justified and whether or not the Holocaust actually mattered but I got carried away with the last section and now my caffeine buzz has depleted, so I'll have to return later.
*The word "evil" here is used according to my own very special definition of it as being something knowingly self-contradictory rather than self-contradictory out of idiocy-induced oversight.
|Tuesday, August 14th, 2007|
Still nothing happening. Even less than usual actually. I downloaded In Utero by Nirvana because I thought listening with unprejudiced ears I might discover what it was everyone liked so much about them (and also people likened it to The Holy Bible, a high compliment) but I must say so far it's been painfully mediocre. Silly, shapeless lyrics, a wholly pedestrian sound musically (maybe it was exciting before everyone imitated it but I doubt that, compared to the Pixies or Black Flag or any of their influences it's dull) and in fact I've just turned it off and deleted it and stuck on the same Manics album that I've been listening to for weeks now. On the plus side, I have enrolled for university online (it starts on the 18th, earlier than I'd thought). I was exchanging messages with some people over okcupid but they seem to have given up. It's funny how I feel really resentful when I have to reply to someone and yet completely crushed if they don't reply to me, or even if they do but not straight away. Yesterday I was angry about something and hopefully I'll remember what it is and get angry about it again so I can write something controversial.
Anyway I'm going to start trying to draw again, did a charcoal of Nietzsche for Damien's birthday (which was a good weekend- Robbie, Elijah and Zanko were there) but I've been trawling for pics since and seen nothing. Am I going to be all obsessive and just draw the same picture over and over again? Perhaps.
|Tuesday, July 17th, 2007|
Afflicted by the usual summer malaise. I have actually got dressed today but my cat jumped into my lap about an hour ago and since then neither my aggressive typing nor one of the Birthday Party's scarier albums have managed to shift her so I can't get up. I need to register with the doctors nearby so that I have a chance to a) make some money prostituting myself to drug researchers and b) do something about my escalating depression and lethargy. Of course b is secondary because if there's anything found wrong with me before I volunteer for research my options will be limited. Also I have to send off my student loan confirmation. The problem is I haven't left the house in a few weeks and the thought of going outside makes me really nervous. As you may have guessed, nothing has happened in that time, except I watched TVlinks.com a lot and finished a couple of modules of NWN.
When I'm at uni next year I'll hate myself for wasting time like this but right now I WANT SUMMER TO END.
(1 wasted moment bore me)
|Wednesday, July 11th, 2007|
|A bare handful of hateful words dissected.
From the Matrix:Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment(1). But you humans do not(2). You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed and the only way you can survive is to spread to another area(3). There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus(4). Human beings are a disease(5), a cancer(6) of this planet. You are a plague(7).
I need to vent so I will proceed to describe the problems with this statement methodically.
1. Mammals don't instinctively develop a natural equilibrium, unless you think that starving to death from overpopulation is "instinctive". Population pressures of this sort work by mathematical and biological forces way over the head of any individual consciousness. Especially yours, Wachowski brothers. There is also no reason to specify mammals, given that any animal will die when its food source is depleted. What we do is just the same as any advanced animal with surplus food, eat and fuck and multiply, and when the food runs out we'll do the same as any other animal and die. If anything we're more enlightened than the other animals, because now we have contraceptives we can fuck without multiplying. It's also stupid to assume that the "surrounding environment" is a constant and remains unaffected by all non-human animals.
2. It is inelegant and by some standards ungrammatical to start a sentence with "but", you fucking idiots. You could have just used a comma or a hyphen instead of ending the sentence. Now I check however I'm not certain that you are conversant with those advanced forms of punctuation, aside from full stops I count one question mark, one comma and nothing else... and they're employed in a statement which (I shortly intend to prove) is so utterly moronic that it still leaves doubts as to your ability to employ them correctly.
3. For reasons mentioned previously, this is what all animals do; the only difference is that humans utilise a broader range of resources because we now require tools and luxuries as well as food and shelter.
4. Firstly, this is a grammatically awkward statement because saying "organism" singular implies that there is only one kind of virus, and were the whole class of viruses being referred to as a singular then the definite article should be used instead of the indefinite. Secondly, it's a factually awkward statement because, while humans and indeed all animals follow the strategy attributed to viruses, viruses actually don't.
Their parasitic nature means that they naturally select for those traits which are least harmful to their hosts, which is why ebola is less common than the cold virus.
5. A disease is not the same as a viral infection.
6. A cancer is not the same as a disease, OR a viral infection.
7. Plagues require multiple victims and there's only one earth. Can you count to one?
Having failed basic science and English, the Wachowski brothers now try their hand at advanced social analysis. One unfortunate result of the current intellectual division of labour is that philosophy and the social sciences tend to attract the kind of people who are incapable of doing subjects which require logical thought, precision or (heavens above!) numbers. All I can say about that situation is that in the next couple of years I intend to punch an awful lot of crotch. The reason that these subjects are known as "liberal arts" has nothing to do with politics; rhetoric, logic, oratory and politics are subjects which all free men* capable of contributing to society should have a grounding in. Anyone capable of producing a still-mewling, shit-soaked third-trimester abortion of a statement like the one above- one which pretends to so much and produces so little- clearly has no grasp whatsoever of those skills and qualities which make a citizen's freedom supportive of society instead of corrosive. Reversing my previous adage that liberal arts are appropriate to the free, I would say that those who demonstrate** incompetence in them are inappropriate for freedom. We can't take the risk that any more children will be intellectually stunted by this sort of thing in the media. The pretence to depth is far more dangerous than open ignorance or frivolity and if this kind of thing carries on people will start thinking that their opinions are innately valuable rather than valuable insofar as they are correct and well-thought-out. My proposal is that those who produce and publicise attempted works of art of this nature are enslaved- sent to work in the Antarctic, chiseling ice cubes individually from the barren landscape with blunt teaspoons- and, on the outward voyage, given a free training in the basic principles of rational thought and expression. After their mandatory sentence is complete they will be tested on their cerebral improvement in lieu of applying for parole; success will result in freedom, failure in return to the cube-mines. Should a surplus of ice cubes result the excess could be used to make quarters for aforesaid mines. However I am open to the possibility of other punishments, so long as those witless media bastards keep the prisons ministry economically self-sufficient while suffering intense privation and misery.
**Note how I say "demonstrate"; the unpretentious simpletons who accept and admit their ignorance will be spared, for now. Current Mood: neither pedantic nor irritable
(4 wasted moments bore me)
|Thursday, June 21st, 2007|
Interesting political news today. Although most people think that Gordon's offer of a cabinet post to Paddy Ashdown was a cynical ploy to screw with the Lib Dems rather than a genuine attempt to overcome partisan politics, I don't really think that one precludes the other... like the Budget, it may have been too clever by half, but there's a kind of cheeky, endearing quality to Gordon's media stunts because they're so much more obvious and stylish than Blair's were. Although I have mixed feelings about his actual policies so far- his proposal for internment of terrorism suspects and tacit acceptance of the ID card scheme without alteration in particular I disagree with- we don't know that things wouldn't be worse under Cameron. The fact he isn't talking much about new public service initiatives means that when he does introduce some they might be well-thought-out and actually work. In fact I regard the relative quietness and lack of attention whoring so far as being a very healthy thing if it indicates a more cautious form of government. I'm not sure that things will get better straight away though because given Blair's constant shifting of Cabinet posts over ten years noone in his party actually has much experience or knowledge of a particular department. Gordon's penchant for leaving things in the hands of professionals might alleviate this problem somewhat but given the low quality of his ministers it's no wonder he wants to bring people in from other parties. Hopefully there will be a purge of Blair's lackeys and some new talent discovered...
|Thursday, May 24th, 2007|
(3 wasted moments bore me)
Still kind of ill. I saw Venny a couple of days ago, that was fun. It wasn't a date, because she has a boyfriend now, but it still felt like one to me because I'm a thoroughly bad person. She gave me an antipsychotic pill, resulting in a pleasantly laid-back feeling throughout the day. Otherwise life hasn't been too eventful since uni finished; I've done a bit of housework and ordered new glasses (not arriving till the 30th because of my idiosyncratic prescription), other than that a very small amount of writing- a fair bit over the first few days but the cough seems to have sapped the energy from my brain as well as my body- aside from that just computer games. Not been reading much either, although on the train to grandma's yesterday I started Thus Spake Zarathustra for perhaps the sixth time. It looks like I'm shutting down for the summer. This isn't really viable but I don't feel able to jobhunt in person until the new frames come in and I can stalk the streets by day again. References are a problem, as is the fact I've lost my passport. Hopefully uni ID, a bank letter and a birth certificate should be enough?
The other night I watched the Shawshank Redemption on my brother's recommendation. Was fairly engaging but the idea of hope as a motive force is flawed. There's something a little offensive about films like that, perhaps the producers make so many movies they forget that they aren't the same as life and life doesn't work like that. Acceptance is far healthier than hope. When I get depressed I don't think "one day there will be a medication which will make me into who I've always wanted to be" or "someone will sweep me off my feet and make everything better at the cost of my total dependency on them". I think of the things I take for granted here. I mean, if I was locked up, I'd miss the cats. And having my own shower. And not being raped. And being able to eat what I like when I like, within financial constraints. Hope is generally fundamentally impotent and yet insatiable, it holds things up to ideals by which nothing real wouldn't seem flawed. Like lust or greed, the more you feed it the more it makes you suffer.
I've really got into the Manic Street Preachers lately- not the new stuff obviously but the Richey-era stuff is brilliant and the lyrics are uniquely philosophical and misanthropic. Everything Must Go has its moments too. The new Adult. album is also great, the best I've heard of their's- titles like "Inclined to Vomit" and "I Feel Worse When I'm With You".( Some pictures from the post-exam pissupCollapse )
Yes, I'm getting fat. I need a job just to tear me away from the fridge a few hours a day.
(1 wasted moment bore me)
|Friday, May 18th, 2007|
I feel bad for Gordon Brown. He's obviously smarter than Tony and yet because he's a man of substance rather than a manipulator he's only got into the PM's office unopposed because everyone knows how sick the public are of Labour. I give him two years. However unless he turns out to be bloody awful he's got my vote at the next election, because Cameron's victory would put the stamp on the politics of media whoredom rather than statesmanship and the Lib Dem candidate around here will probably be drawn from the loony wing of the party.
(2 wasted moments bore me)
|Thursday, May 17th, 2007|
Seeing mum was better than I thought it would be, even though I was hung over I only snapped at her once. She also said she'd buy me some new glasses. I seem to have lost my contacts though- it's possible I literally drank them... I'm not looking forward to beginning the job hunt, I feel as bad as I ever have (or almost) but as dad reminded me I have a head start on account of finishing uni so early and it would be silly to waste that. My location means I can check Stockport too.
Anyway my exams are over and the British Politics one was the only one that went well all the way through, most were patchy. I doubt I've got a first, but it probably won't be a disaster. Doubt I'll have to resit anything at least. Got pissed at Richard's after the last, it was quite fun and I didn't black out so severely although the second evening I did have a couple of bottles of a particularly awful wine and ended up vomiting into an already vile communal toilet. Noone saw but regardless there was a weird air of hostility in how everyone treated me, or so it seemed, obviously Robbie and Richard were ok but Ellie tried to give me a pep talk and Roger and the others I didn't know so well were somewhat derisive, if I wasn't just being paranoid. I don't remember so well what I was talking about though so maybe I was being a dick.
Anyway it's probably that I've been hitting E again and drinking too much, but I'm finding the idea of leaving the house to be an especially difficult one to deal with right now. I'm sure I'll feel like less of a mutant when I've recharged a bit and got some functional glasses... well I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter, I don't want to waste this summer.
|Wednesday, May 9th, 2007|
Well my hangover's almost worn off, although my shame spiral's just beginning. I never got that phrase till I thought about how everyone believes pill comedowns end in 3-5 days when your serotonin levels return to normal. If you want to completely deny the importance of consciousness then sure, of course they do. No sign of mum yet; I've not answered the phone though, just to make sure she thinks I'm out. I doubt Ben is much happier about it than me; the only reason he escaped her "parenting" mostly unharmed is that she left him alone to concentrate on me, the one with alleged potential. He appreciates as well as I do that she's crazy; not even the quiet, tolerable kind either. This is a meeting I'd like to defer until after all my exams are finished if possible. Well, forever if possible, but unfortunately that won't be. Even if I thought dad would let me get away with it, I might need to borrow a couple of hundred quid this summer, and I want to convince her to go back to El Salvador. Find yourself, unleash your potential, make a difference and don't you dare be on the same continent as me while you do it.
Exams. Ethics is probably my strongest subject but I'm not sure how to revise it. It's in two days and there was at least one subject covered per lecture, it's issues-based and hence I could write for ten minutes about any of it but there's not so much I could write for the required hour about. I know plenty on free will and the social contract but it seems a little complacent of me to just reread my essays for those two subjects and not do any more.
(1 wasted moment bore me)
|Monday, May 7th, 2007|
I went back to bed after the previous post and had a nightmare and a burst of something approaching delirium tremens; at least I thought it was drink-related, although I've been having the odd psychotic break here and there without any chemical excuse.
What worries me most is that the nightmare was about mum coming back. Not about her coming back as a monster or having changed or anything; just about her coming home the same way she always ever was and thinking I was joking when I told her to leave me alone and trying to manage my life as if her own had been anything special. It was the worst one I've had since I was on prozac. I really hope she doesn't stay here long. Current Mood: worried
I was scared of the dark earlier but after I saw my face in the mirror I wanted the dark back.
I think I'm quite seriously ill, and I think the litres of vodka I drank this weekend made it worse. I'm paying now, cold dizzy and disorientated, not to mention that I smell awful and my teeth have apparently grown fur. I barely remember anything from Friday or Saturday but earlier today we ran out of booze and the memories are clear and of course sharp with pain. I think me and Richard had a fight on Saturday- I remember biting his arm full strength to escape a headlock but he must have come off better because I'm the one who owes him a punch, not vice versa.
|Friday, May 4th, 2007|
Today's election comments on the BBC website begin with:
"Jobs have not been a burning issue in this election so far: possibly because unemployment in Wales is low and employment is high."
Low unemployment AND high employment, eh? A rare situation indeed. I used to have a great amount of respect for the BBC and hope one day to work there, to carry the torch held by Jeremy Paxman and John Humphreys. However I'm not enough of a fuckwit to work my way through the ranks so I guess I'll have to find some other way of being rude to people for money.
I've been press-ganged into working on a film in Cheshire with Adam and Kelly, will have to be in the park outside MMU at 9.30 this morning. I have no idea what it's on or how substantial my role will be. Don't think I'll put my contacts in, I can always whip my glasses off for a scene and pretend to be able to see if necessary.
With the apparent swing to Plaid Cymru and the SNP I've been thinking about complete devolution. My first thoughts are that it's a shame- as my granddad was born in Wales I consider myself British rather than just English- and losing the ability to move so freely between countries, choose universities in Scotland or Wales etc could impoverish the lives of many individuals. On the other hand it seems that the Scots and Welsh must be angry that their best and brightest are liable to move to England and away from home, and legitimately so.
The difference here is between a unified Great Britain and an island of four nations. Certainly if Scotland goes there's no excuse for us to keep Wales or Northern Ireland. A liberated England standing alone would not only be economically healthier (never mind North Sea oil, the Celts are a dead weight) but also have a much-needed excuse to renege on its current defence commitments. We could see a more liberal future, one with an explicit English culture, no more foreign wars without the Scots as a meat shield and renewed prosperity. There would be a slant towards the Conservatives in the House of Commons and much as I hate to admit it that would be a good thing if it made Labour and the Lib Dems take a more laissez-faire and individualistic attitude.
Now I'm being idealistic, we'll probably just get more "law and order", one-sided "respect" agendas, commodification and divisive social policies cementing the barriers they ostensibly try to break.
(2 wasted moments bore me)
|Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007|
| This article
describes Roman society. It's interesting but I couldn't get past the line "Motifs of gladiators are found on nearly a third of all oil lamps from Roman archaeological digs throughout the Empire."
A clear parallel can be drawn to the idea of how our current society would be remembered were one-third of all excavations regarding it of Man. Utd. shirts.
I feel quite disillusioned to realise that there was never a time when humanity wasn't vulgar.
I think I did ok in my British Politics exam. The first two questions I answered very well indeed, the facts just flew out of me and the structuring was so natural I barely had to think about it. Unfortunately I'd only revised Attlee and Thatcher so the third one was tricky and even if the first two were 1sts I expect it will be 10-15 marks lower and pull the exam as a whole down to a 2:1. It's a shame but after the last two fiascos I'm glad something went well on the whole. It was a hot day and I felt sick and nervous beforehand, more because there was nowhere quiet and cool to revise; I ended up sat on a table outside Sandbar which despite being on a major road was still quieter than the damned library.
Other things are ok. I've spent too much but not as fast as last time. This weekend will be expensive though as a while back I agreed to take Venny out (she has a bf now, trying hard not to think of it as pointless, which means I might just be a mysogynist) and go to a party at Rick's which I suspect will just be me and him drinking. I actually met a really nice girl on friday when I was out with Frankie (or rather met in a social setting, she's in my Ethics class) but he was freaking out a bit so we had to leave early. I felt bad though; it's nice to actually meet a girl who's interested in Philosophy even if I was way too wired on 2CB not to talk in cliches. However if I'm to actually do something about my feelings in this instance I'll probably need to buy more contact lenses because mended specs make anyone look a complete mess. Anyway I gave her my email address (felt like a dick for not having a mobile again) and realised today that uni email doesn't ever get through to hotmail accounts so I could be ignoring something she sent that didn't get through AT THIS MINUTE or alternatively she might only have liked me because she was on drugs and not sent one. I do have the vaguely stalkerish idea of looking her up on the student email database because I remember her surname from Patronising Paul's humiliating roll call (that's weird in itself) but that might be a little bit creepy of me. Advice?
I'll probably see her at the Ethics exam anyway. It's just that if she did send something, I don't want her to feel ignored. But then if she didn't I don't want her to feel crowded. FEELINGS ARE STUPID. FEEL FEEL FEEL AND NEVER THINK and the press and the rest of the media and most "art" using the term loosely is on your side. If my memory wasn't so good I'd never even be in this situation. Alcohol is the answer.
Edit: There's not even anyone by that name on the database. Lots of Ashleys but no familiar surnames. I feel like something of a twat now.
|Tuesday, May 1st, 2007|
More still of my special brand of dickery; I went to my BPD exam today when in fact it's tomorrow. Clever, clever Alex. The extra revision time will be useful as this is the only Politics module I have a chance of getting a first in. However, having belatedly realised that it's May Day, I feel like doing something anarchistic to celebrate the great freedoms and near-infinite power to annoy granted me by the internet, as well as stirring up some anti-government paranoia. I have a fairly clear idea for another story; it will be very short, satirical and offensive in the extreme. Next I think though I'll set up another facebook account for Damien. An honest