2010

Is it perhaps, time for a change? I'm starting to think there's something very wrong with me. I'm not sure I'm happy. 2010 hasn't started very well. I feel sort of isolated in my new house, living with strangers I have nothing in common with. With my housemates gone and most people now living away from Derby, I'm bleeding allies and friends like nothing else.
A job application to work in China didn't pan out, neither did my last relationship. And my constant reassurances that I was going to "be better" and "be a new man" in the new decade has come to nothing. Still, it is early days I suppose.

And as well as this, everyone I asked seemed to think I'm fine as I am. That I shouldn't want to change myself. Well thats sweet and all, but I don't feel like you understand what the problem is. I'm sick and tired of being single, I'm fed up with feeling directionless and overweight and unmotivated and so damn scared of taking risks and chances.
I have the ambition and even the drive to make myself better, but what about the practicalities?

The thing is, I'm not sure that I know how to change my behavouir. I'm not sure I understand what is required to reinvent your life.
I'm not really completely unhappy, but I'd prefer things to be better than half full. I'd like them to be 2/3rds the way up the glass. Is that, too much to ask. So, gentle reader (all five or so of you, plus the spam bot who messaged my last post) how does one go about making themselves a new life? I may need some help with this...

Words of Wisdom #0000002 - Yorick Brown

"First comes boyhood. You get to play with Soldiers and Spacemen, Cowboys and Ninjas, Pirates and Robots. But before you know it, all that comes to an end. And then, Remo Williams, is when the real adventure begins."

The rise of British Urban Fantasy

In the past year, two TV shows started. They both had the most gimicky concepts I've ever come across. It was quite a shock, that they both turned out to be my favourite recent UK TV finds. The first; A Vampire, a Werewolf and a Ghost share a house together. The other, ASBOs with superpowers.

First, with the malcontents of this world; recently, I took a chance on a short lived, comedy drama series on E4 called Misfits. It turned out to be a revelation. It was about characters I should have hated; chavs, criminals, malcontents and ASBO recipients. Then they almost get killed by hail stones the size of shopping trolleys and get struck by lightning while painting canal-side benches. This, of course, gives them all unique super powers.

So, do they then use this power to solve crimes, or save the world? Do they bollocks! No, they use it to cover up a murder they commit in self defence. They use it to stay alive as many others around their dreary, inner city existence begin to exhibit abilities as well. The Misfits' powers manifest from their desires and insecurities, for instance sensitive, former athlete Curtis who regrets his decisions that led him to community service gains the ability to rewind time when he feels guilt, regret or panic. Super-chav Kelly believes everyone is talking about her behind her back, as well as thinking ill of her, and so becomes a mind-reader. Shy, awkward Simon is friendless and lonely and considers himself un-noticed, manifesting itself as the power of invisibility. Sexy, confident Alisha considers her physical appearence to be her primary and only asset and that the only reason she is noticed and accepted is her sexuality, and through the storm, can induce men into wildly passionate lust through touch. And Nathan... well, that'd be telling, wouldn't it? Nathan is the series' best, most interesting character. He's the group's sort of leader, except he isn't. He's a cocky, witty, urbane, crude Irish prankster, seemingly without a shred of decency or morality within himself, except he's very sensitive, passionate and deep, beneath all the smug, bravada.

Misfits works because it is well written, with a heavy focus on characters, continuity and a fully fleshed out universe. It is very funny, but also kind of heart breaking, tense and extrememly dark. I loved it. Roll on series 2!

As for the second series I mentioned. Well, this is last year's Being Human. Whose premise sounds like the first line of a joke. A bad joke. I expected, honestly, a 'Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps' type show. With jokes about leaving the blood out of the fridge to go off, and werewolf hair on the sofa. Instead, what we were gifted with was nuanced and somewhat profound. It was about three, lonely, lost souls, who find each other and share a house in modern day Bristol. The only thing unusual about it was that the leads were monsters. A vampire, a werewolf and a ghost. But this was a superficial detail, a metaphor for the trials of life.
Mitchell is a vampire gone straight, a man looking to leave his past behind him, and start afresh, though the local tribe of bloodsuckers is unlikely to let him rest... or get in their way.
George was the victim of a single scratch and now seeks to remove himself from society, afraid of what he might do when the moon rises. And Annie is a spirit and agrophobe, trapped in the house where she died, un-noticed and forgotten, trying to come to grips with the lives being lived in her absence.

It was also sharply written, with a strong core of humanity and emotional attatchment. The characters were believable, even if they are inhuman creatures, and the story exciting and engaging. Series 2 of being Human arrives next month on BBC 3.

So why this rise of new British fantasy? I like to think that Russel T. Davies' re-vamped Dr Who has something to do with it. That such a successful and mass appeal relaunch of a sci-fi series has helped usher in a new wave of genre programming. Perhaps, now, after Buffy, Battlestar, Lost and its ilk have swept the US, now, it is our turn to probe the darkness for new ideas and experiences?

Things I love more than a cold beer on a hot Christmas morning: Case File #2: The Wire

Friends and family alike may groan at the sight of this blog post, should they read it. Because, of The Wire, I just won't shut up. There's a reason of course, which is that The Wire is the best television programme of all time. It is better than anything put out anywhere in the world and while challengers to its throne continue to emerge in this golden age of television, Breaking Bad, Mad Men and Deadwood coming closest, it remains the King. And as Omar would tell you, "you come at the King, you best not miss."

The Wire was an HBO television series, which ran five seasons beginning 2002 and was set in contempory Baltimore, Maryland (Bodymore, Murderland). Trying to sum up its epic scope now would be doing it a giant diservice, but for the purposes of this review I'll try anyway. An engrossing, slow burning, novel on film; The Wire is about the exploration of the death of the American Empire. About how institutions are flawed, failed concepts and how people are mere cogs within unfeeling, unsympathetic systems, be they governments, organised crime, unions, corporations, the media or the educational system. At first, The Wire focussed on the ongoing drug war between the Baltimore Police Department and the various drug gangs working the streets of Baltimore, slinging product and dropping bodies.

As it went on, however, it expanded its focus, to include the dock workers (season 2), city hall (season 3), the public school system (season 4) and the city newspaper (season 5). The cast was incredibly expansive, involving (at the end of its run), over 40 regular or recurring characters, all of whom were pretty terrific in my humble opinion. Also of note, probably 60 to 70% of the cast was black, which is very unusual and brave for an American tv show.

The authenticity of the show was also unparalleled. David Simon, the show's creator was a former Baltimore Sun journalist and his writing partner, Ed Burns was a BPD Homicide detective. The two collaborated on Simon's seminal and fantastic book Homicide; a year on the killing streets which in turn, inspired the tv series Homicide; life on the streets, which was a sort of Wire beta test.

If you start watching the Wire, you first must pass through a sort of trial by fire. Simon makes almost no concessions to his audience, believing you to be as smart as he is (which you (and I) almost certainly, aren't). You will be thrown in without as much as a word of warning. You will not be spoon fed or hand held on who everyone is, what their roles are, who they work for, what their position is or what their motivation is. As well as this headscratcher, you will be thrown specific police terminology and street slang from urban, black America, which, as a white, middle class British man, is like watching a Hong Kong film without subtitles.
But do not fear, just watch the first three episodes in a row and you should make it through to the other side, unscathed and enlightened.

The Wire is, at it's heart, a Greek tragedy. It most often deals with how institutions let people down, swallow them up, use them and spit them out when they're done. Each and every person is a small, tiny, forgettable part in a larger mechanism (except Omar, more on him later). And each institution, be it Police, school, prison, newspaper, drug gang, has its own unique, but ultimately parallel power structure. All of these forces are routinely pissed on by the only individuals with true power, the politicians and police brass sitting at the top of the food chain. Except their priorities are yet more power, wealth and covering their arses. It is an old story.

It is an angry show, one which challenges, but does not pretend to have anything close to answers. Simon may be one of the great chroniclers of his age, but he also understands that it will take more profound events and minds than even his own to solve the problems facing our so called civilisation.
What's beautiful about the show, is that in spite of its healthy and very much overwhelming nihilism, it is a show of humour and humanity. It showcases true presences who try to move beyond their trappings and enact real difference, although they are still trapped by their situation.
Within the police, it takes true courage (and pig headed stupidity) to even attempt to bring real cases to the court house. Men like series lead Jimmy McNulty ("What the fuck did I do!?"), Lester Freamon ("All the pieces matter."), Kima Greggs ("You motherfuckers kill me. Fighting the drug war, one brutality case at a time.") and Cedric Daniels ("Bend too far and you're already broken.") who routinely work within the Major Crimes Unit to do real police work. Then there's Stringer Bell ("Until then we are going to handle this like businessmen , make the profit and later for that gangster bullshit."), a drug dealer and crime boss, who is a murderer and blight on society, but with other visionaries like Proposition Joe ("...proposition then."), a reformer looking to revolutionise the drugs trade with co-ops and an end to street violence.
One of the Wire's finest moments came with Season 4's school story. The following of four boys through one fateful summer, as they each loose their innocence to the murder, drugs and poverty around them. And of course, I cannot forget the streets. I cannot forget Bubbles ("Ain't no shame in holding on to grief . . . as long as you make room for other things too."), a junkie, homeless, waste of a man, who holds more charisma and dignity than half of the politicians and police brass combined. A man who's ascent up a flight of stairs was one of television's greatest inspirational moments.
And lastly, to Omar ("I got the shotgun. You got the briefcase. It's all in the game though, right?" "Oh, indeed."), the stick up man. Which is to say, a man who robs drug dealers for their dope and cash. An extraordinarily dangerous profession by any stretch of the imagination. Omar Little is a legend, the only character to refrain from profanity, to stick stringently to his code (for the most part), to acquire a mythical, wild west status, to be a practising homosexual. Most importantly, unlike every single other character in the Wire, Omar is bound to no institution, no hierarchy, no narcotic, no rules. He is a free.
And of course I've left out an epic assortment of other characters, but there's only so much time in the day.

The Wire is profound, seminal, challenging and socially conscious. It asks the right questions, pushes the right buttons, forces the issues. It is character driven, superbly acted, written and directed. It is genuine, hard and nihilistic, while being damned funny (The "fuck" crime scene being paramount). It changed the way I look at television drama, what I expect from TV, and raised the bar for all to follow.

And finally, about the real Baltimore, Maryland. The crushing poverty and despair at the heart of the series is as close to a documentary as fiction gets. Such a realistic portrayal has never before been seen in crime drama. The Wire was filmed in Baltimore. It used local residents and relied on real life events to inspire its story lines and the lives of its characters. In short, you must see this series, it is simply, fucking brilliant.

"All in the game, yo."

Words of Wisdom #000001 - Al Swearengen

"Pain or damage don't end the world, or despair, or fuckin' beatings. The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man -- and give some back."

Richard Littlejohn is a cunt

Some of you may have noticed, I'm a fairly politically minded person. I am opinionated, yes, stubborn also and think with a heavy slant on the philosophy and morality of things. It's just the way I am. When I was a pretencious teenager, I discovered philosophy, an unrealised and ultimately profound new branch of thought and feeling. I believed I'd found myself. Ha! That's a longer road than I thought it would be. A road, that probably doesn't end, even at the end of life.

A few weeeks ago, a man appeared on a BBC television programme, a political panel show called Question Time. This man's appearence drew words of condemnation, as well as anger and violent protests outside of the BBC's Television Centre in London.
His name, is Nick Griffin.

First a disclaimer; I believe that Nick Griffin should be allowed a political voice as well as a place and platform to speak. I believe this for two reasons. Firstly, he is a politician, legitimetly elected to office by citizens of our country and secondly, we live in a supposid democracy, where he is afforded the right to speak outr on any number of issues and give his opinion.
Though I believe this strongly and with few exceptions, I am not a fan of Mr Griffin, nor of his political party, the British National Party (BNP).
For the BNP are a very nasty little organisation. An offshoot and supposid legitimet evolution of the National Front, the BNP believes that white people are the original natives of Britian and sees all non whites, as well as Jews and homosexuals as inferior. There are a facist and racist organistion and anyone disputing this is a bloody idiot. A point in evidence, the party was recently forced to change its original charter disqualifying non whites from joining, because of recently introduced discrimination legislation. Then, to show the true hypocrisy of the party, some non white people tried to attend a BNP meeting. Here's how that worked out for them; http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23759615-non-whites-barred-from-bnp-meeting.do

So yeah, a racist, a homophobe, an anti-semite, should be allowed to speak, because he represents a part of our nation, however vile and repugnant, and also, it was glorious fun to watch him get his arse handed to him intellectually.

This thursday another man will attend the Question Time panel. His name is Richard Littlejohn. He's Griffin's favourite "journalist". There will be no protests, nor outpouring of rage and anger. He will sit there, smug and happy and give his nasty little opinions. Littlejohn is a newspaper columnist and "news" presenter. He writes primarily for the Daily Mail (otherwise known as The Daily Hate Mail). Littlejohn is an rabid and frequent critic of Gypsies, homosexuals, transgenders and foreigners.
On Tony Martin, the farmer who shot a gypsy burgler in the back as he was running out of his house, he said; “True, [Martin] hated gypsies. He had every reason to hate them. He and his neighbours had been terrorised by them for years.”
On the Rwanda genocide, where hundreds of thousands of Tutsis were killed by their Hutu neighbours he said; "Does anyone really give a monkey's about what happens in Rwanda? If the Mbongo tribe wants to wipe out the Mbingo tribe then as far as I am concerned that is entirely a matter for them."
Nice one Richard, the murder of an entire people. Its nice to see some genuinely unabanshed racism out in the air. Bonus points for the word 'monkeys' and 'Mbongo'. Well done indeed.
In response to Yorkshire police's attempts to reach out to the gay community he relayed an anecdote in his column; "[A friend] reliably informed me there are no homosexuals in South Yorkshire. [The friend said,] 'Not live ones, anyway. We send them all down to London.'”
And lastly, the icing on the cake, the final nail, on the Ipswich murders of five prostitues, Littlejohn sought to involve us in his warped, twisted view of reality. He said;
"...in the scheme of things the deaths of these five women is no great loss.
They weren't going to discover a cure for cancer or embark on missionary work in Darfur. The only kind of missionary position they undertook was in the back seat of a car...
Frankly, I'm tired of the lame excuses about how they all fell victim to ruthless pimps who plied them with drugs. These women were on the streets because they wanted to be."
He later said; "death by strangulation is an occupational hazard."

Thanks for Johann Hari for collecting all this bile in one place: http://www.johannhari.com/2005/06/12/richard-littlejohn-racist-and-homophobe as well as Littlejohn himself (I suppose) for letting this gem stand for all to see: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/columnists/article-423549/Littlejohn-Spare-Peoples-Prostitute-routine-.html

I'm not saying Richard Littlejohn shouldn't be allowed on QT. He has freedom of speech as we all do. I reserve his right for say this purely hateful things. Just as I reserve the right to call him a cunt.

The Joy of Urbex(ing)

Some years ago, I was randomly slogging my way through the internet when I came across a fascinating article, from a very impressive and interesting blog. The blog is called BLDGBLOG and the article can still be found here: http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/2005/11/london-topological.html
Investigating the underground realm that exists beneath our very feet, the article is all about a growing and highly popular movement known by the rather daft name of Urbexing, short for Urban Exploration.
The name is obvious. It is the exploration inside urban enviornments. But you may ask, what is the point of exploring somewhere which is essentially the antithesis of exploration. When one thinks of exploration, we think of Sir Francis Drake, Marco Polo and Sir Walter Raleigh. These men set sail on wooden ships, for distant lands where no western man had ever gone before. So how can one explore what is essentially a place not only discovered, but developed and shaped and changed and inhabited over decades if not centuries?
Well, civilisation is ever changing. Factories, sewers, tunnels, buildings, shops, military facilities, power generating plants, houses and offices all come and go, are inhabited and abandoned, built and demolished. Urban Exploration is about finding these forgotten places, these ignored, hidden and marginalised little slices of our cities and towns and nations. It is about rediscovering and reconquering these places, before they slip away forever.
Urbexers have only two rules. Take only photographs, leave only footprints. It is a key feature of the community. You cannot break into these places, you must gain access legitimently, otherwise you are not only trespassing (a civil offence) but also breaking and entering (a criminal one).
Although my madening work schedule and impossible life style makes if difficult to keep up with this new hobby, I have had some amazing experiences around the Derby area. I have walked through a pitch black tunnel beneath the city centre, I have stood among giant cooling towers of the now mostly demolished Willington Power Station and I have investigated the winding corridors and partially collapsed theatre of the Derby Hippodrome.
I recommend Urbexing to anyone with a healthy sense of adventure and danger, as well as an interest in history, architecture, sociology and philosophy. There are places all around us. You only have to go and look for them.