As with many problems, economic concerns tend to rear their ugly heads and assume precedence with phrases such as, 'first and foremost we must ask if this is economically viable', on a business scale, and the more humble - and arguably more viable - cry of actual people that, 'we can't afford this'. But it is futile to attempt an argument which this beginning implies - viz. doing away with money - because that solution is not a readily foreseeable development in the world; and it is hardly helpful to talk in such hypothetical terms as 'it'll be alright when everyone lives without money and we can live as ecologically sound lives as possible' because we need a solution now, in this world, with our ever-evolving technology and despite our ever-constraining world economy.
The first assumption is that climate change is happening, and that it is a dire problem. As such, it is logical to suggest that, if possible, solutions must be devised to, if not reverse it, then slow it down or stop it. This possibility is the second assumption - either that it is or that it isn't possible - with me holding the view that it is possible to devise solutions for at least slowing down climate change. Let me not speak in hypothetical terms as to how whole businesses and countries may be able to alleviate climate change, because it isn't whole businesses or countries which will be reading this, but real people not too dissimilar to you.
Simple things such as turning off electrical gear when it isn't being used - lights, computers, TVs (which some absent people presume to use as thief-deterrence devices) - maintaining a compost heap (which, as well as providing the benefits of fertiliser for growing ones own food, saves on the weight that the waste would otherwise add to the dustbin lorries' cargo), and travelling with fuel efficient forms of transport. Many of these things would also be economically viable, since using less electricity leads to lower electricity bills, maintaining a compost heap and growing ones own food can lower food bills, and travelling with fuel efficient forms of transport may lead to lower fuel bills or lower total cost of travelling per year depending on the form of transport. However, some people may be sufficiently wealthy not to be affected by such economic concerns, and some (possibly similar) people may be unwilling to suffer the least inconvenience to them so that the greater population (potentially the entirety of life on Earth) will benefit.
We can try to reason with these people, help them change their ways, but we know that although you can give a hyena a guitar you can't make it play. The best thing we can do in honour of Blog Action Day is to forget about this "economic viability", and replace it with the concern to be "ecologically sound". From now and for the future, the first phrase to come to mind will be, 'first and foremost we must ask if this is ecologically sound'.
I know, I know, but what with Blog Action Day waiting just around the corner you must concede that it is both more logical and organised to get this out of the way before proceeding with my travelogue. An alternative would have been to dive headlong into it only to resurface straight away for Blog Action Day; or I could simply have done the article for Blog Action Day and then gone on to my travels. However, since I'd previously promised that I will "next week start my long-overdue travelogue", I though an explanation would be nice as to why I haven't. Let us agree that the immediate commencement of the travelogue and sudden interruption for Blog Action Day would be out of the question.
But since I won't have a chance to appraise you of recent developments until after my travelogue is complete, let me add a little more. Just a little.
My course has started, and I've begun learning how to freewrite. It is a strange experience this freewriting, with one way I've thought to describe it being that it "makes me feel young, like I'm (re)discovering something about which I'm very unsure" (in my exercise book). It'll need more practice for me to fully appreciate its benefits, and so I'll be doing at least twenty minutes of it each day for the rest of this week (over to Monday), and probably continue after that.
Finally there have been a few mishaps recently, in various forms. Just a list, if you don't mind:
The XFCE configuration on my laptop seems to have screwed itself up - (re)moving the ~/.config/xfce4 directory does nothing, though, and I'm now suspecting it may be a problem with my X configuration, but don't know where to start fixing it. I'm now using Fluxbox, after a long time of not doing so, and finding it really sexy.
On TV today (8/10/2009), when we were going into the adverts between Star Trek: Voyager, we were shown the title screen for Star Trek: The Next Generation instead.
On this Monday's edition of Countdown, a rogue "E" had found its way amongst the consonants in the eighth round, sending the rest of the programme into chaos with poor old Rachel not entirely sure that she'll be pulling consonants and vowels out of their expected boxes or even that she wouldn't find one of those amongst the numbers!
And on the subject of Countdown I have to say that there are few things sexier than Rachel Riley solving a very hard maths problem.
Next time will be Blog Action Day, and then my travelogue.
Can another month have really passed? Let us make an end to this, and next week start my long-overdue travelogue of the time I spent with my family and old friends of our family over in Dubai and Goa back in February and March.
But more-or-less right in the present, casting your mind back to last month's entry will remind you that the then current plan was to continue my studies in October with A363Advanced creative writing. For the current plan, simply replace A363Advanced creative writing with A215Creative writing. The change was made some weeks ago on the basis of this course's subject matter being more preferable than the other's, and having gone through the registration process I'm just waiting for it all to be complete before the course begins on the 3rd October.
And So My Life Goes On Alone
The train is in, I see it peeping over the fence as I head into the station, and charging over the brige and through its open doors I've made it in the nick of time. The train is fairly full, not heaving with people standing in the aisle, but fairly full, and sitting down with my bass leaning on the window seat, me taking off my coat and rolling up my sleeves in the afterheat of running, I think of how this will be the last time I'll pass through Piccadilly Railway Station hoping to see my mystery girl from almost exactly half a year ago (see under section Unlikely Cassanova, and for the interested parties today the 20th September will be the anniversary). 'How much wasted time could have been better spent and hearts soothed by the mutual love of the two of us had I only said 'of course, my love!' and given her the number,' among other thoughts.
Upon arrival Platform 14 is as busy as usual, and heading up through the crowd into the lounge for Platforms 13 and 14 (where I espie the time and platform of the next one on the Hadfield line) and down the travelator past the banks of platforms to the main body of the station it appears that old Piccadilly has acquired an even more devoted following since last I visted. Platform 2 is my heading, and as I walk over there approaching the sacred place I see the train pull out. 'Of course, we were running late as we went through the stations on our way,' and through I go to join my fellow travellers in consulting the Big Board for the time and platform of the next one to Guide Bridge. It is the same, and back I go through the glass doors, hoping to take my seat like usual where I'd first seen her, but the platform's full, there's no sign of her, and with the last vestiges of hope having run their course I assume a position on the platform and wait.
The train arrives, fills up full, we have a successful rehearsal with Ollie, an old friend I know from various places we've played, joining us to play mandolin (having recently been a candidate to replace me on bass), and some hours later I'm back on Guide Bridge station waiting in the darkness for my train to take me back to Piccadilly.
This train is never busy at any time I've taken it, and I hop on and get a seat. Over on the other side of the carriage sits one girl, young looking yet dressed as if to impress an older man with so-called sophisticated tastes, while further up the carriage on her side are a group of girls, one of whom is telling a story of how she mistakenly pulled a girl while she was on a night out in Canal Street. I can see her, with her blonde hair and makeup done for dark environments. She sits way up in her seat as she tells her tale with great enthusiasm, and from time to time I take a glance and fancy she also occassionally sneaks one over at me. But I'm thinking of my mystery girl, and how I've changed since her. 'Before we'd met, and before I'd been to Dubai and Goa, I hadn't felt in a fit state to start a relationship with anyone, thinking that the best time do so is when one is happiest and can allow their partner to be unremittingly intoxicated with contentedness. And so my eyes were closed to any possible relationships, and strangers only lived as happy passers-by. But now since you, I have been toying with the idea of finding and loving someone, you, but also I've been seeing people, thinking of them differently, not just as happy passers-by, but sometimes with the possibility of love.'
With thoughts like these the train arrives at Piccadilly, and off I get, and via the Big Board round I go to Platform 10 to catch my last train home. Surprisingly it's packed, but finally I get a backwards-facing seat, and cram myself into it for the journey home. It's fairly unspectacular, with one notable occasion being the observation of a young girl on the other side of the carriage as the ticket lady comes past that, 'She's just come all the way from Manchester. And she's probably going back there again after Buxton. How sad is that!' Until the climax of the trip, we've passed Woodsmoor and are getting to near to Hazel Grove. I get up, swinging the weight of me and my bass around a handrail, and stand facing the doors on the usual side. But the platform doesn't come, only tracks. Conceive of the astonishment, my dearest reader, as we pull into Hazel Grove Railway Station on the opposite side from the one we usually (read "always") pull into. The exclamation from a fellow passenger, 'It's on the other side!' had trumped my consequently risen eyebrows, and so I say, 'That's unusual, isn't it!', to which he concludes, 'That's very unusual.'
As with many of my encounters we part on amicable terms, but the astonishment and strangeness of it all still courses through me as I head back over the bridge, an act I don't remember having ever done before, and turn my steps for home. It's dark and quiet, and thoughts of writing this are forming in my mind. Enough had happened, what with the absence of my mystery girl, but as I walk along I pass a young couple sitting close together on the other side of street. Then a wave of feeling washes over me: the need of somebody to love. And then the irony of it all. 'That day when I first saw her,' the only time I saw her, I remind myself, 'I felt content, complete and in no need of anyone for happiness. But how I need her now. But not with me as I am now, but how I was that day, with the additional love for her I might have had by now if only I had given her my number. I'd subconsciously been living out my theory that the very time we are best suited to joining with another person is when we are in such a state that we are in no need of anybody else to join with. But now! Now, when that state is gone, oh how I need you now. The irony, the bitter irony.'
And now a little something for a friend. Ad, here's 'Gooseneck' from Tortoise's Mosquito 7" for you to enjoy. Unfortunately it can't be downloaded from here, but you can at least listen to it - as can anyone else who cares to - and if you'd like to have it permanently I'll upload it somewhere else from where you can download it. Remember, the lick at 133secs is it!
After having had a very beautiful week in Austria, thank you, a month of near aridity has passed without my having begun swimming regularly as I planned, fixed up my bike to begin cycling regularly, completed giving my room a long-overdue overhaul, nor my recent attempts to get some session musician work meeting with success. In light of this, it seems doubtful that I will be spending the coming months settling into my career as a session musician before resuming my studies next February, but that I will continue into the second half of my degree studies this October with A363Advanced creative writing. Something of a leap, considering I haven't done the Level 2 Creative writing course, but according to a fellow student of mine who has studied this course, it seems possible for someone to skip it and go straight for the advanced, provided that they have an aptitude for creative writing.
And it is creativity which impels me to write today, since I'm more than pleased to say that after wallowing long in a quagmire of uncreativity, externally imposed or otherwise, my rhythmic muse has returned spinning wonderful rhythms in my imagination, and with her some new harmonies and melodies and chords begin to peep their noses out of the shadows. A short example of my recent work is here attached. It's only drums, created with Hydrogen, but I'm thoroughly happy with it, and whilst I continue working on the rest of the piece, you can have a listen and maybe even enjoy.
Just before we make good our escape to Austria for a week, let me congratulate my sister Jess and everybody else from Manchester Metropolitan University's Business School who graduated on Thursday the 16th of July 2009.
In all their finery, from left to right: Heather, Nichola, Ronak, Jess
If last month's near miss was a close-run thing, the possibility of The Life and Times of Miblo del Carpio receiving no further enhancements for two whole months in succession is positively unprecedented. With last month's article having been written and the final twenty-six minutes of June being wisely spent, this will happily be avoided, but a quick glance at the bottom of the Table of Contents reveals that we may soon be faced with a traditional chapter's worth (chapters in The Life and Times of Miblo del Carpio traditionally contained eight articles, until there was a change in the law); I say, we may soon be faced with a traditional chapter's worth of interludes. Thus we may be breaking at least some new ground and making the unprecedented precedented.
But if these stylistic concerns are of no interest to you, let yourself be satisfied (since we are now entering the final twelve minutes of June) with the knowledge that I have on the 17th June taken the final exam for my Approaching Literature course, with the prospect of approximately seven study-free months ahead of me, during which I will be embarking on my grand career, to continue with my studying as a 'real-life', doing it how 'everybody' studying with the Open University does it, part-time student. More positive activities (since it is doing words in which many of you delight) include my joining MusicBrainz to begin contributing my vast musical knowledge to its archives; my acquisition of Tortoise's new album, Beacons of Ancestorship, their first album of original music for five years; and the less active activity, as far as I am concered, the Wimbledon Championships, in which I am whole-heartedly supporting our one and only hope, Andy Murray. On a final dour note, there still has been no sign of my mystery girl.
Word of the Week
Flit
flit /flɪt/ v. & n. v.intr. (flitted, flitting) 1 move lightly, softly, or rapidly (flitted from one room to another). 2 fly lightly; make short flights (flitted from branch to branch). 3Brit. colloq. leave one's house etc. secretly to escape creditors or obligations. 4 esp. Sc. & N.Engl. change one's home; move. n. 1 an act of flitting. 2 (also moonlight flit) a secret change of abode in order to escape creditors etc. [ME f. ON flytia: rel. to FLEET5]
Definition courtesy of the Concise Oxford Dictionary
P.S. With great fortune, the article has been published at the time of "Tuesday, 30. Jun, 2009 23:10:37". We were in serious danger of slipping over out of June and into July (the exact time now, as I go back to edit in this postscript) being "Wed Jul 1 00:05:43 BST 2009", according to date, but we can thank a glitch in the system, or perhaps a newly updated method for dating our published articles, that we don't have a gaping hole in the archives. A very big thank you to (either of) them!
With great speed and dexterity, I manage in the dying throes of this May 2009 to save The Life and Times of Miblo del Carpio from a fate to which it hasn't succumbed during these last two years. The danger of its happening is regrettable, but since my nature prevents me from unncessarily burdening those I dearly love, the reasons for it will not be forthcoming.
The important thing here is that something has been said, and when that state most fitting for the recollection of powerful emotions is attained, we can continue as we were.
Let's just tie up a few loose ends before I start to recount my travels in Dubai and Goa. William Wordsworth, in the Preface to his Lyrical Ballads, defined poetry as, 'the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings from emotions recollected in tranquillity', and with a month of acclimatisation to home behind me, and the powerful feelings in a state to be recollected, the chapter to come promises to be one worth remembering.
But of course before we do go on, let me tell you about this! I've done two assignments since returning, and, considering that for the previous four I'd achieved 74, 74, 72 and 72, what you suppose I got for these most recent two? If you're mathematically inclined and a connoisseur of patterns, you may suppose 70 and 70 would be lovely, if improbable, marks; and, if so, I'd have to give you a virtual pat on the back and type, 'That's it! That's exactly what I got!' So I hardly need reiterate that ... (comes a voice from below) 'If you hardly need reiterate it, don't! Christ, these bloody upstarts! They can string a few words together, and suddenly reckon themselves to be writers, allowing themselves to write reams and reams about the same damn things! You've made the point: move on!' So I shall.
(With only fifteen minutes until the final episode of The Wire I must get straight on to the Word of the Week. No time to mention anything else. See you in the next chapter...)
Word of the Week
Pattern
pattern /ˈpæt(ə)n/ n. & v. n. 1 a repeated decorative design on wallpaper, cloth, a carpet, etc. 2 a regular or logical form, order, or arrangement of parts (behaviour pattern; the pattern of one's daily life. 3 a model or design, e.g. of a garment, from which copies can be made. 4 an example of excellence; an ideal; a model (a pattern of elegance). 5 a wooden or metal figure from which a mould is made for casting. 6 a sample (of cloth, wallpaper, etc.). 7 the marks made by shots, bombs, etc. on a target or target area. 8 a random combination of shapes or colours. v.tr. 1 (usu. foll. by after, on) model (a thing) on a design etc. 2 decorate with a pattern. [ME patron (see PATRON): differentiated in sense and spelling since the 16th-17th c.]
Definition courtesy of the Concise Oxford Dictionary
As with many problems, economic concerns tend to rear their ugly heads and assume precedence with phrases such as, 'first and foremost we must ask if this is economically viable', on a business scale, and the more humble - and arguably more viable - cry of actual people that, 'we can't afford this'. But it is futile to attempt an argument which this beginning implies - viz. doing away with money - because that solution is not a readily foreseeable development in the world; and it is hardly helpful to talk in such hypothetical terms as 'it'll be alright when everyone lives without money and we can live as ecologically sound lives as possible' because we need a solution now, in this world, with our ever-evolving technology and despite our ever-constraining world economy.
