Bamber Gascoigne's 'A Brief History of the Dynasties of China' was a good read. Especially in the light of EU vs China trade 'negotiations'...you see, people - it's a dog-eat-dog world out there and 'fair is foul and foul is fair'...so I suppose payback's a rather bitter pill to swallow. The world didn't lift a finger when the Summer Palace was pillaged; as long as Qing dynasty bronze sculptures keep coming up for auction I'm pretty sure we'll just see more of the same. Yes, yes - forgive and forget - let the sins of the past not be visited on those who dwell in the present; but that's not quite the same when you look at the Chinese time frame. EU central bankers think in terms of fiscal quarters; Chinese emperors plan for the next century...so let's do the right thing and allow the engine of laissez-faire economics to hum along nicely.
Heartfelt sympathies to the suffering people of New Orleans...brace yourself for Hurricane Katrina, folks...that looks like one hell of a storm.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Saturday, August 20, 2005
20th August
On the 20th August...
1908
Following a scandal involving the use of slave labour to amass a personal fortune, Belgian King Leopold II is forced to hand over the running of the Congo Free State (Zaire) to the Belgian Government.
1914
World War I: German troops occupy the Belgian capital, Brussels
1940
World War II: British Prime Minister Winston Churchill rallies the nation with a contratulatory speech for the RAF winning the Battle of Britain. 'Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few'.
1989
In London, the pleasure cruiser Marchioness is hit by a dredger, the Bowbelle, on the River Thames - 51 people attending a party on the boat are killed.
1998
229 people are killed when a Swissair plane crashes into the Atlantic near the coast of Nova Scotia en route from New York to Geneva.
2005
I'm twenty, on the twentieth. Hurrah.
1908
Following a scandal involving the use of slave labour to amass a personal fortune, Belgian King Leopold II is forced to hand over the running of the Congo Free State (Zaire) to the Belgian Government.
1914
World War I: German troops occupy the Belgian capital, Brussels
1940
World War II: British Prime Minister Winston Churchill rallies the nation with a contratulatory speech for the RAF winning the Battle of Britain. 'Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few'.
1989
In London, the pleasure cruiser Marchioness is hit by a dredger, the Bowbelle, on the River Thames - 51 people attending a party on the boat are killed.
1998
229 people are killed when a Swissair plane crashes into the Atlantic near the coast of Nova Scotia en route from New York to Geneva.
2005
I'm twenty, on the twentieth. Hurrah.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Bhindi Indie
I know what I see; shapeless shadows on the wall
I know what I hear; empty echoes in the hall
Bring them closer, draw them nearer
Ask them to stay, beg for another day
To see them again, to forget the pain.
JH
I know what I hear; empty echoes in the hall
Bring them closer, draw them nearer
Ask them to stay, beg for another day
To see them again, to forget the pain.
JH
Friday, August 12, 2005
Drinking too much Chai gets you a little high.
Okay, long post. Read the third paragraph/section.
As a child I used to take the bus home from primary school; I'd have to cross Holland Avenue each sweltering afternoon to the same ticking noise that would mechanically (now electronically) count down the seconds for the traffic light timer. Tick. Tick. Tick. As the green man signal light began to flash the ticks would begin to speed up, before blurring into a whir and a final trrrrrrrrrtick as the red man took his place on the signal light. I used to think/pretend/deceive myself (for what reason I still don't know) that the strange ticking metallic box next to the traffic light was a bomb - a great incendiary device that would blow if I didn't cross the road before the final whirring signalled the appearance of Mr Red. So I'd scamper across the road with my backpack (which later became a roller-wheel-bag after the odd briefcase/satchel phase before finally returning to the sensible school backpack), fearful lest I should incur the wrath of the ticking timebomb across the road.
That old, irrational childhood fear seems to have been replaced by the current sense of blase defiance/incomprehensible internal paranoia that rumbles through my mind whenever a new act of terrorism is perpetrated against humanity. Strange, that. Old habits die hard.
It was after a good dinner that I sat down to coffee with a few medic chums and, despite the jovial banter I now feel a little uncomfortable with what I observed about myself...and how I seem to fit in with the world around. Well, a little introspection never did anybody much harm...I guess. We're meant to live in a 'meritocratic' 'classless' 'tolerant' society that pays no heed to divisions of race, creed or language; bollocks to that. I'm proud (yeah, pride is such a pain) to say that I'd be the last cynic to give in when everything falls to pieces; I wouldn't spare a second thought about sending in the water cannons and riot police. It's such a harsh and bitter 'every hamster for himself' world out there...and yet - we seem to tread such a fine line between the politically correct (repressed?!) version of rose-tinted bunnyland and the fiery chasm that we know really exists. We (and by we I mean I) put on the blinkers and plant our feet across the gap, pretending and shielding ourselves with the argument that our education and 'englightenment' (I hate hate hate that word) has taught us the fundamental principles of fairness and equality. So we use that as a pathetic excuse to hide behind our rood screens of privilege while we prop up - knowingly and unknowingly - the system that we loathe as it crushes those beneath, supports those above and keeps us safe and dry in the middle as we build our own ladders to the penthouse upstairs.
Verily I say unto thee that it's a pitiful tragedy, because this shameful duality is just a load of tosh. I said earlier that I'd be the last to burn the citadel that shelters me and gives me the platform for this self-righteous and not very coherent ranting proclamation. It's an awful shame because deep down we have that something buried inside that says this is all a big rotten lie and it isn't that we choose not to listen to this still and silent voice, but rather, we put the earplugs in and turn the iPods on full blast. So we bitch and moan about the haves and have-nots but at the end of the day I think it's just an excuse to keep the blinkers on, because we'd much rather not see the misery which we know exists around us when it's so much easier to order another cup of Chai.
As a child I used to take the bus home from primary school; I'd have to cross Holland Avenue each sweltering afternoon to the same ticking noise that would mechanically (now electronically) count down the seconds for the traffic light timer. Tick. Tick. Tick. As the green man signal light began to flash the ticks would begin to speed up, before blurring into a whir and a final trrrrrrrrrtick as the red man took his place on the signal light. I used to think/pretend/deceive myself (for what reason I still don't know) that the strange ticking metallic box next to the traffic light was a bomb - a great incendiary device that would blow if I didn't cross the road before the final whirring signalled the appearance of Mr Red. So I'd scamper across the road with my backpack (which later became a roller-wheel-bag after the odd briefcase/satchel phase before finally returning to the sensible school backpack), fearful lest I should incur the wrath of the ticking timebomb across the road.
That old, irrational childhood fear seems to have been replaced by the current sense of blase defiance/incomprehensible internal paranoia that rumbles through my mind whenever a new act of terrorism is perpetrated against humanity. Strange, that. Old habits die hard.
It was after a good dinner that I sat down to coffee with a few medic chums and, despite the jovial banter I now feel a little uncomfortable with what I observed about myself...and how I seem to fit in with the world around. Well, a little introspection never did anybody much harm...I guess. We're meant to live in a 'meritocratic' 'classless' 'tolerant' society that pays no heed to divisions of race, creed or language; bollocks to that. I'm proud (yeah, pride is such a pain) to say that I'd be the last cynic to give in when everything falls to pieces; I wouldn't spare a second thought about sending in the water cannons and riot police. It's such a harsh and bitter 'every hamster for himself' world out there...and yet - we seem to tread such a fine line between the politically correct (repressed?!) version of rose-tinted bunnyland and the fiery chasm that we know really exists. We (and by we I mean I) put on the blinkers and plant our feet across the gap, pretending and shielding ourselves with the argument that our education and 'englightenment' (I hate hate hate that word) has taught us the fundamental principles of fairness and equality. So we use that as a pathetic excuse to hide behind our rood screens of privilege while we prop up - knowingly and unknowingly - the system that we loathe as it crushes those beneath, supports those above and keeps us safe and dry in the middle as we build our own ladders to the penthouse upstairs.
Verily I say unto thee that it's a pitiful tragedy, because this shameful duality is just a load of tosh. I said earlier that I'd be the last to burn the citadel that shelters me and gives me the platform for this self-righteous and not very coherent ranting proclamation. It's an awful shame because deep down we have that something buried inside that says this is all a big rotten lie and it isn't that we choose not to listen to this still and silent voice, but rather, we put the earplugs in and turn the iPods on full blast. So we bitch and moan about the haves and have-nots but at the end of the day I think it's just an excuse to keep the blinkers on, because we'd much rather not see the misery which we know exists around us when it's so much easier to order another cup of Chai.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Tyrian Purple. Thank you, Murex.
More silly 'poetry.'
Oh yes - I don't think they should expand the UN Security Council. Muahahahaha. Global conspiracy buffs - have a field day!
See her staring at the ceiling; twiddling those thumbs.
Watch her standing by the doorway; desire manifest.
Ask her if she'll stay - but don't expect an answer.
You won't see her again - lay your heart to rest.
Hey man, smile! It isn't that bad!
A nasty bout of weltschmerz won't kill you (unless you've got lots of paracetamol to hand). Remember - don't do it - your liver could benefit somebody far more deserving!
Oh yes - I don't think they should expand the UN Security Council. Muahahahaha. Global conspiracy buffs - have a field day!
See her staring at the ceiling; twiddling those thumbs.
Watch her standing by the doorway; desire manifest.
Ask her if she'll stay - but don't expect an answer.
You won't see her again - lay your heart to rest.
Hey man, smile! It isn't that bad!
A nasty bout of weltschmerz won't kill you (unless you've got lots of paracetamol to hand). Remember - don't do it - your liver could benefit somebody far more deserving!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Quid facies?
Deranged thoughts that beckon you to prowl through the tar-pits of your mind aren't quite what you might wish for at a quarter past four in the morning.
Why is the heart disquieted? To what end is the soul moved to drown itself in self-pitying cocktails of loathing and silent moans? Angst? - On what account?
When you wake up every morning with the word 'dissatisfaction' printed in your mind, embossed on your heart and branded all over your soul you can't help but wonder whether it's all a figment of an overripe imagination. Then you wonder yourself into fits of wondering that really don't get you anywhere - you never should have started in the first place.
Don't you just love cooking shows?
Regret and envy with a good dose of insecurity; bake at low self-esteem for an unstable temperament. Bottle it up and ignore; meanwhile you may prepare the toppings - a liberal dose of conflict and misunderstanding should be kept cold, outside and uncovered. Neglecting the main dish for a while, be sure to beat the toppings thoroughly before mashing the whole thing together. Simmer overnight, being sure to add the finishing touches with a generous helping of spent vigour. Serves 1.
Why is the heart disquieted? To what end is the soul moved to drown itself in self-pitying cocktails of loathing and silent moans? Angst? - On what account?
When you wake up every morning with the word 'dissatisfaction' printed in your mind, embossed on your heart and branded all over your soul you can't help but wonder whether it's all a figment of an overripe imagination. Then you wonder yourself into fits of wondering that really don't get you anywhere - you never should have started in the first place.
Don't you just love cooking shows?
Regret and envy with a good dose of insecurity; bake at low self-esteem for an unstable temperament. Bottle it up and ignore; meanwhile you may prepare the toppings - a liberal dose of conflict and misunderstanding should be kept cold, outside and uncovered. Neglecting the main dish for a while, be sure to beat the toppings thoroughly before mashing the whole thing together. Simmer overnight, being sure to add the finishing touches with a generous helping of spent vigour. Serves 1.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)