Sometimes I look at the world and see lots of familiar faces stuck a top the wrong bodies.
The bodies are crawling to work, climbing up the ladder, smiling to themselves and nodding their heads.
I don’t really understand why. I mean, of course, I understand the concept of ‘the economy’ and 'capitalism' and why labour makes money makes the world go round, but I am just so confused.
I understand why in today’s ‘credit crunch’ climate that we should keep spending money, support smaller businesses and try not to let the economy lapse any more, but when situations such as the police reaction to the G20 protests on weds last week occur I get a little bit more confused. Surrounding a group of people, penning them in and refusing to let them leave… a peaceful protest - supposedly.
Who are these people working in the government? Working for the police? Working for the banks/ institutions/ reading the sun/times/telegraph/ watching the BBC and being spoon fed their own opinions. It’s like the heads on top of the bodies refuse to be accountable so they act as hosts for whatever the globalised authority believes should be correct at that particular moment in time. Are we those people?
Jeremy Bowen, the BBC’s Middle East correspondent, has been accused of lacking impartiality. Call me naive, but reporting on the Middle East for your entire journalistic career does mean that you may develop an opinion- nay, an understanding (albeit subjective, as are all understandings/histories etc) of the particular situation. It is why journalists are journalists. They want to develop an understanding that is closer to a truth (albeit subjective, as are all truths/understandings/histories etc) so as to relate a situation/ the ‘news’ to an audience. An audience that can then develop an opinion (albeit subjective yet again, as are truths/understanding/histories etc) and an audience who can then choose for themselves the thoughts that their bodies host and filter into their actions.
I understand that the BBC strives for this ideal of impartiality, strives to be a fair representative of the good old people of Britain, but the atmosphere is changing. It is always changing. To scapegoat one of their best correspondents due to a few complaints is surprisingly not that shocking at all. Especially when we see the President of Iran attack Israel (after declaring how he wishes to wipe it off the map/argues that it should never have existed in the first place) resulting in half of Europe stepping back out of the UN boardroom into the safe zone, and shouting ant-Semitism at the top of their lungs. And quite rightly- what Ahmadinejad says is anti-Semetic and it is anti Israeli.
I personally do have issues with two roads being created in one country- one for Israelis, one for Palestinians, and the difference in quality of each road. And I also have issues with the way id cards are issued. And I also have issues with the path of the Israeli security fence/ land possession/ house demolitions/ embargos on Gaza/ owing airspace/water space and land which is technically Palestinian. Some actions of which could in fact be interpreted as oppressive, or indeed, racist.
It seems this man has taken it upon himself to state what he believes. Rather than letting it slide, he is not letting go. This could be his best –or worst decision to date. Especially when taking into account the current international climate.
I’m so confused as to how the world is up in arms over some statements by an angry man- albeit an angry biased man, who is actually making some very interesting points that are without a shadow of a doubt, true.
I keep forgetting what democracy is. And what honesty is. And what it is to fight for what you believe in. There is a very long way to go yet.
21.4.09
14.4.09
goodreads
The Book Thief
I just found this.
now you can see all the books I have read/want to read/ never finished.
and I get to remember them all.
Magic.
I just found this.
now you can see all the books I have read/want to read/ never finished.
and I get to remember them all.
Magic.
Rilke
As once the winged energy of delight
As once the winged energy of delight carried you over childhood's dark abysses, now beyond your own life build the great arch of unimagined bridges. Wonders happen if we can succeed in passing through the harshest danger; but only in a bright and purely granted achievement can we realize the wonder. To work with Things in the indescribable relationship is not too hard for us; the pattern grows more intricate and subtle, and being swept along is not enough. Take your practiced powers and stretch them out until they span the chasm between two contradictions...For the god wants to know himself in you.
13.4.09
july
This website is a series of assignments given by
Miranda July (of you and me and everyone we know)
and harrell fletcher.
the assignments vary from:
16. Make a paper replica of your bed.
58. Record the sound that is keeping you awake.
65. Perform the phone call someone else wished they could have.
63. Make an encouraging banner.
it is good.
7.4.09
a Bear in Sainsbury's part six
She rolled to look at the Bear, disguising her shy glances by extravagantly pulling strings of honey from the comb. She was sure she had seen him before.
She rested her paws and thought about what waited for her in the city. She had been emailing a boy. a boy bear. He had spoken to her of promises of shopping sprees and car rides and supermarkets where you can buy fish wrapped in a plastic, already skinned with the bones removed. She felt nervous as she licked the honey from her paws. She had never met the bear from her emails in real life. the sweet taste clashed with a bitter thought.. what if she was too rural? too country? too much of a forester?
she breathed in deeply and shook her head, trying to discard the negative thoughts and remain focused on her new future in the city.
He sat with his back to the rocks and watched the she bear cautiously from the corner of his eye as she stood to leave. She seemed familiar. He could not place the red tone of her fur, the dull brown eyes, or the softeness of her growling voice. He thought about other girl bears he had met (mostly in the city) and decided that she was one of the best. She didnt need claw polish or glasses or lip stick to make her beautiful. All she needed was the sun shining on her dark burgundy coat. It was a unique colour.. a colour that he knew he had seen somewhere before...
He joined her standing up and they both looked out across the tree tops. He thanked her for her time and for sharing the honey and she gave him a little smile.
Then with a rush of realisation he placed her image. it was enclosed in an email he had recieved around three weeks ago, from a wonderful young bear he had found on matchsticks dot com, a girl headed for the city, bored of the forest and forest bears.
He spoke to her.
"I'll walk with you- if you don't mind.."
She smiled, a little more this time and nodded her approval, slowing to walk alongside the bear, facing the city, a turn out for the books indeed.
She rested her paws and thought about what waited for her in the city. She had been emailing a boy. a boy bear. He had spoken to her of promises of shopping sprees and car rides and supermarkets where you can buy fish wrapped in a plastic, already skinned with the bones removed. She felt nervous as she licked the honey from her paws. She had never met the bear from her emails in real life. the sweet taste clashed with a bitter thought.. what if she was too rural? too country? too much of a forester?
she breathed in deeply and shook her head, trying to discard the negative thoughts and remain focused on her new future in the city.
He sat with his back to the rocks and watched the she bear cautiously from the corner of his eye as she stood to leave. She seemed familiar. He could not place the red tone of her fur, the dull brown eyes, or the softeness of her growling voice. He thought about other girl bears he had met (mostly in the city) and decided that she was one of the best. She didnt need claw polish or glasses or lip stick to make her beautiful. All she needed was the sun shining on her dark burgundy coat. It was a unique colour.. a colour that he knew he had seen somewhere before...
He joined her standing up and they both looked out across the tree tops. He thanked her for her time and for sharing the honey and she gave him a little smile.
Then with a rush of realisation he placed her image. it was enclosed in an email he had recieved around three weeks ago, from a wonderful young bear he had found on matchsticks dot com, a girl headed for the city, bored of the forest and forest bears.
He spoke to her.
"I'll walk with you- if you don't mind.."
She smiled, a little more this time and nodded her approval, slowing to walk alongside the bear, facing the city, a turn out for the books indeed.
a Bear in Sainsbury's part five
The bear woke up with a start to find himself in the middle of a clearing in the forest. He must have fallen asleep when he stopped for a rest last night. He really must stop smoking, especially if he needs to hunt again..
He stood up and shut his eyes in the morning sun.
When he opened them again, a brief moment later, he was confronted with the image of a bear, stood at the other side of the clearing, staring back at him in disbelief.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, then suddenly, with out thinking about it, he spoke to the mirror image.
"hello"
The bear opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself, and instead, she turned to leave.
"Wait!.. sorry, please, where are you going?"
She stopped and turned around to face the bear. She looked him over, his ruffled fur, shiny eyes, and the faint smell of cigarettes and... the rain forest?
Confused she answered him sharply.
"To the city!" She answered, " And I need to leave now, I have taken far too long..." She picked up a small purse that was sat by her side, Shook her fur and smiled, " Good day, Mr Bear"
"Wait, wait, please... are you sure?" The Bear followed the stranger, "You don't understand, the city.. its so.. it.. it does something to you, please... you don't know what you have here, the birds, the bees, the honey..."
The she bear carried on walking, but the thought of honey made her slow down. The honey in the forest was the best honey she had ever tasted... Maybe she could just go back to the mountain for one last taste of fresh honey? She knew it wouldn't be the same in the city... What was one more day?.. plus this bear had the aura of a city bear around him, maybe he knows how to get a job, an apartment, one of those wonderful desk jobs where you answer phones all day and give out useful information.. perhaps even for the government or the home office?
"Okay" She replied, "I will compromise. I shall come with you to the mountain to eat some honey, and if in that time, you can convince me not to leave for the city, I will consider staying..." She smoothly changed direction and glanced behind her as the other bear followed her path without looking up, but with an eager spring in his step.
a Bear in Sainsbury's part four
The bears mind wandered as he galloped towards the trees of his home. He suddenly began to remember all the good things about his life as a woodland creature. He began to reminisce about the warm summer days spent prostrate in the sun by the river, head dangling over the speeding water to watch the pink salmon struggle upstream, with a fond smile.
He suddenly realised he was panting and slowed his pace to catch his breath.. He never used to need to catch his breath when he was a younger bear...
But then he never smoked marlboro reds when he lived in the forest.
He looked up to find himself inside the darkening woods . He peered into the trees, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, when a tingling sensation of fear pulled at his stomach... Which way was home?
He continued onwards, ignoring the feeling of fear that prompted the desire for a cigarette and focused on the good things about his natural home. The squirrels, the flowers, the smell of pine trees, the softness of the soil beneath his feet... and best of all... the honey combs. How he had missed climbing trees to get to the sweet sweet nectar of the bees. When living in the city he had caught himself on more than one occasion in the morning, stopped outside a house, intently sniffing the air as the children inside spooned their chosen topping upon their toasted bread.. had had seen, only once, a singular bee hive, standing solitary in the cramped back garden of a house in the city. He had stopped in shock, watching the bees gather and swarm around the little white box with glee, happily tending to their days work...
He was happy to be coming home. He had missed the forest. and the company of other bears. especially one bear in particular... He let his natural sense of direction lead the way and yawned as the moon rose above him.
a Bear in Sainsbury's part three
As the bear walked along the side of the motorway he swaggered, head down, through the grass, rubbing his nose in the early evening dew. He enjoyed the feeling of the turf beneath his feet, and remained unconcerned by the speeding cars ruffling his fur as they hurried past.
He veered off to the left, leaving the buzz of traffic and dimming sky behind him. The forest looked like a cardboard cut out against the glow of the setting sun, silhouetted perfectly. The bear blinked at the sun and dipped his head once again to sniff the cold damp earth.
It still smelt like the city.. of cars and noise and tyres and dogs.
There weren't any dogs in the forest, he thought to himself. He smiled at the thought of strolling through the trees, not having to glance down repeatedly to check for dog poo. His paws were so big that at times in the city, he managed to squash not just one, but two deposits in one step. Once, when in the park across the street from his flat, as he sat underneath the small clutch of evergreens that reminded him of home, he watched as dogs one by one came into the park with their owners dragging behind them, pooing and picking up, pooing and picking up.
What a bizarre way of living he thought to himself.
He picked up his pace, until he found himself at a lolloping gallop, crossing the dark fields to the forest as quickly as his strong legs would allow, feeling the strecth in his muscles and the blood heat up as it pounded through his skin. The city dropped behind him, smudged out of focus by the smoky haze of the night sky.
The bear had remembered what was waiting for him in amongst the trees.
5.4.09
quote
"The greatest obstacle to transforming the world
is that we lack the clarity and imagination
to conceive that it could be different..."
is that we lack the clarity and imagination
to conceive that it could be different..."
25.3.09
photoautomat
one of the best things about berlin was fotoautomat.
more to come.
i didnt realise the love for the machine went so far. check the kooky german love out:
http://fiveprime.org/hivemind/Tags/berlin,fotoautomat
23.3.09
poppa
this summer i started transposing my dutch grandads novel.
he wrote it as an experience of the dutch resistance during worldwar2 firsthand in english.
i was lucky enough to meet my poppa but i never had the chance to talk to him in my adult life.
Transferring his book from typewritten to pages to a hard copy is a privilege. It makes me feel proud to know that resistance, protest and a political conscience runs in the family...
i hope that i can make him proud in my little ramblings of todays days and moments.
you can find him here
http://docs.google.com/View?docID=d3f2chj_230gdp634dd&revision=_latest
and here
he wrote it as an experience of the dutch resistance during worldwar2 firsthand in english.
i was lucky enough to meet my poppa but i never had the chance to talk to him in my adult life.
Transferring his book from typewritten to pages to a hard copy is a privilege. It makes me feel proud to know that resistance, protest and a political conscience runs in the family...
i hope that i can make him proud in my little ramblings of todays days and moments.
you can find him here
http://docs.google.com/View?docID=d3f2chj_230gdp634dd&revision=_latest
and here
13.3.09
12.3.09
a Bear in Sainsbury's part two
As he stepped out into the honest british drizzle of a slow monday afternoon, the bear paused to watch a familiar family bundle into a large red volvo estate. The mother was struggling with two full shopping trolleys, whilst attempting to console a small child who was gripping her neck tightly and howling like a hurt wolf cub. Her big glassy brown eyes glanced briefly at the bear through the snot and tears, but resumed her performance when she realised she would not recieve the attention she desired.
Three medium sized children ran around the car in circles, shrieking and picking items at random from the shopping bags to hit each other over the head with. The mother nonchalently continued to removed these items from each of her children, placing them in the car and shaking her head quietly at the situation she has found herself in.
The bear watched as the four children were bundled inside the car, the noise of excited young voices muffled with the shutting of each door, one by one.
As the car pulled away and veered past the bear (still paused on all fours just outside the continually opening and closing electronic doors of the shopping centre) he saw a little face push against one of the windows, smudging the condensation away. Two small red hands curled in a grimace framed a set of growling milky white teeth quickly followed by a frantic wave and a stuck out tounge.
The bear followed the car with his gaze until he saw it disappear around the boarded up mfi store on the corner opposite.
He missed being a cub.
He felt that since he came to the big city to find himself he had become lost in the fake gold of the city way of living. He missed howling and fishing and sleeping all winter long. Now he had a set amount of hours he must complete each week, no sick pay, and sore eyes from staring at a computer screen all day.
What he would give for a four month nap in a warm snug cave looking out over the forest...
He shook himself awake from his daydream, rubbed his eyes with his paws, and made a decision.
He would start his journey home.
a Bear in Sainsbury's part one
Standing in the toiletries aisle, the bear looked a little confused. He put forwards a paw and attempted to grasp a plastic bottle of herbal essences silk'n'shine conditioner- but in the process, he knocked three more bottles of the 'all natural experience' from the shelf to the floor. He watch silently as the sugary pink liquid spread towards the shelving unit, and turned the white faux wood of the display a slight salmon colour where it met the shiny white floor.
The bear sat down with bump (somewhat reminiscient of a 4 year old mid-tantrum) and wrinkled his big brown nose. The smells of the rainforest and guava fruits wafted up and surrounded him with a sticky overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity.
bears were not supposed to be in the rainforest.
Suddenly he felt himself yearning for snow, for the evergreens and icy rivers of his native home, as though his body were being pulled towards the memory. He had missed the rugged feeling of weather worn fur (as opposed to the well conditioned, sweet smelling conditioned coat he had become used to as a city bear) and the strength of his claws tearing through bark (as opposed to the well manicured new nails he now sported in an off-white eggshell to match his lowlights)
The bear slowly, calmy stood up in the aisle. As he rose, he glanced around him at the clinical isle, bright white and full of smoky pastel pinks and sea greens typical of the common household bathroom.
He puffed out his chest, and stretched his limbs, taking himself to twice the size of the bear he was when he entered the store. He bared his teeth and shook his whole body, growling as a little old lady with a full shopping trolley shuffled past the end of the isle.
With a long sigh, he dropped down to all four paws, shrinking back to a manageable supermarket size.
The bear padded quietly out of the store, without so much as a glance behind him.
The bear sat down with bump (somewhat reminiscient of a 4 year old mid-tantrum) and wrinkled his big brown nose. The smells of the rainforest and guava fruits wafted up and surrounded him with a sticky overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity.
bears were not supposed to be in the rainforest.
Suddenly he felt himself yearning for snow, for the evergreens and icy rivers of his native home, as though his body were being pulled towards the memory. He had missed the rugged feeling of weather worn fur (as opposed to the well conditioned, sweet smelling conditioned coat he had become used to as a city bear) and the strength of his claws tearing through bark (as opposed to the well manicured new nails he now sported in an off-white eggshell to match his lowlights)
The bear slowly, calmy stood up in the aisle. As he rose, he glanced around him at the clinical isle, bright white and full of smoky pastel pinks and sea greens typical of the common household bathroom.
He puffed out his chest, and stretched his limbs, taking himself to twice the size of the bear he was when he entered the store. He bared his teeth and shook his whole body, growling as a little old lady with a full shopping trolley shuffled past the end of the isle.
With a long sigh, he dropped down to all four paws, shrinking back to a manageable supermarket size.
The bear padded quietly out of the store, without so much as a glance behind him.
18.1.09
14.1.09
now
what happens next? Everyone has a dip. Everyone has moments of blurry eye sights and nestled comforts. When do we pull ourselves out of it all?
It has been 5 months 8 days and four hours since I stopped.
I want it to all begin again, because it hasn’t gone away, not at all. I want to remember the things I wanted, waited for, stumbled across and realised with. Ah those realisation moments are so very very key to living each day. They make all the fumbling worthwhile.
Injustice.
Now here a big big one. A big thought that needs a big box, a big room, a big open mind to consider it, yet it saturates every action we make, every word we speak every thought that leads us to change our selves.
Look at the state of the world. What is going on? No one considers anything anymore. The days tumble past, people get shot, children are caught in the crossfire and all we do is say “Oh shit, look at that, those poor people..” then pick up our tv remote and try and find the next episode of Americas next top model.
Its no great dilemma.
So we try and dull down these pangs of guilt and burning apathy with a couple of pounds falling into the pocket of whichever young and bright or old and serving charity knocks on our door this week. We can sign away our hard earned pennies then every month when the papers come through the letter box, just flick over the stats and chuck them in the recycling bin. Because it doesn’t really matter where your money is going, as long as its going in the right direction- right?
Human rights are of the essence. They should be what we, everyday, strive to enforce. Equality, shared responsibility and the desire to help. Humans are, as a species, philanthropists. They care about life, they act on its behalf. Its inscribed into every religion, every family value and supposedly every law that gets accepted by society.
Yet we see, albeit with shock, the result of rockets killing four civilians, an attack killing almost 800 and wounding up to 5000 others.
four Vs 2500.
one of the strongest armies that has every existed vs a few men, with immutable belief that they are doing the right thing, they are trying to be heard, they are signaling not only for action, but waving a hand at the world through a mask of violence to remind them that they are still there. They are still struggling, and they will use any which means they can get their hands on. Because their voices aren’t loud enough, their writing not dark enough, and their leaders not strong enough against the pressure of the international world order to even ask the other big men to turn around.
They are lost within the egos and weapons trade that override the justice that is being sought.
They have been lost for so long.
It has been 5 months 8 days and four hours since I stopped.
I want it to all begin again, because it hasn’t gone away, not at all. I want to remember the things I wanted, waited for, stumbled across and realised with. Ah those realisation moments are so very very key to living each day. They make all the fumbling worthwhile.
Injustice.
Now here a big big one. A big thought that needs a big box, a big room, a big open mind to consider it, yet it saturates every action we make, every word we speak every thought that leads us to change our selves.
Look at the state of the world. What is going on? No one considers anything anymore. The days tumble past, people get shot, children are caught in the crossfire and all we do is say “Oh shit, look at that, those poor people..” then pick up our tv remote and try and find the next episode of Americas next top model.
Its no great dilemma.
So we try and dull down these pangs of guilt and burning apathy with a couple of pounds falling into the pocket of whichever young and bright or old and serving charity knocks on our door this week. We can sign away our hard earned pennies then every month when the papers come through the letter box, just flick over the stats and chuck them in the recycling bin. Because it doesn’t really matter where your money is going, as long as its going in the right direction- right?
Human rights are of the essence. They should be what we, everyday, strive to enforce. Equality, shared responsibility and the desire to help. Humans are, as a species, philanthropists. They care about life, they act on its behalf. Its inscribed into every religion, every family value and supposedly every law that gets accepted by society.
Yet we see, albeit with shock, the result of rockets killing four civilians, an attack killing almost 800 and wounding up to 5000 others.
four Vs 2500.
one of the strongest armies that has every existed vs a few men, with immutable belief that they are doing the right thing, they are trying to be heard, they are signaling not only for action, but waving a hand at the world through a mask of violence to remind them that they are still there. They are still struggling, and they will use any which means they can get their hands on. Because their voices aren’t loud enough, their writing not dark enough, and their leaders not strong enough against the pressure of the international world order to even ask the other big men to turn around.
They are lost within the egos and weapons trade that override the justice that is being sought.
They have been lost for so long.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)