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A lesson in self-indulgence  I now have several hundred plastic coloured balls enveloping my bedroom floor. Originally I was going to count them and sort them by colour, but after a few trickled out the temptation grew to large: I tipped the last two bags out all over the place and swam gleefully. I have been woefully unproductive, or rather - worse! - highly productive in the wrong direction. All my energies have been focused and streamlined into pointless activities and alluring distractions. As a consequence I feel weak and drained rather than empowered on waves of successful creative or scholarly ventures as was planned. I have set myself on a better path, removing temptations to idle and stagnate or live a life vicariously through a saved game fiction. Starting tomorrow, I'll get up early in the morning (i.e., before eleven) and do what I can. News: Soon my playpen balls will be in Reading, all three hundred or so of them! Since the landlord had the garden turned into a gravel pit I've decided to make a mini-golf course. We can play it in the house too, because we're grown-ups now. Term starts soon. It'll be pretty hectic- I'll only have two days off a week (not including weekends). In the second term I'll only be doing half a module which means a seminar every other week and that's it. Sometime I forget I'm even doing a degree. Was watching Russia Today- a Russian news channel. They're world coverage is pretty good and they're not afraid to cover challenges to American interests abroad. I'm no Russophile- I think the collapse of the Soviet Union has led to a rise of a particularly nasty form of Mobster-Capitalism which has seen the gulf between the rich and the poor become a veritable chasm framed on one side by desperate poverty and on the other opulent wealth the likes of which the old Tsar's could only dream of. When I shake my head (and fist) in disgust at the tax-dodging super-rich in this country my only consolation is 'at least it isn't as bad as Russia'. That aside: the news channel had a couple of good stories, in brief: U.K military bagpipe bands are banned from playing in a Russian military band get-together- organisers on both sides decry this as politics intruding upon culture. A Czech student has filed a lawsuit against the Republic's prime minister for giving the go-ahead for American radar on national soil- 3/5 of the populace don't want it and the opposition party argue that it is against national interest. To paraphrase: "It doesn't make us any safer from missile attack, it doesn't make Europe any safer and it is clearly aimed in antagonism to Russia- a country the Czech Republic is close to." The Georgian government headed up by Mikheil Saakashvili is attempting to pass a Patriot Act- much like the one passed in the states after the World Trade Center collapse. This will allow the government to use techniques such as wiretapping. One of the parlimentarians against this said "Let's tap Saakashvili's phone and see who's a true patriot!" I'm moving out of my house of ten months today, and moving in to a one year tenancy. I'm not sad to go, but I'm not overjoyed either. I'm not sure there's anything here I'll miss. I'm not one for missing places. I've lived in well over a dozen houses and so moving is a part of me. The unpacking and arranging I don't mind, the packing up can be a hassle. Yet there is something strange and satisfactory, like a song's note of resolution, in seeing a room returned to it's pre-habitated state. I woke up around nine or ten on friday. The day was spent working on the newspaper, mainly a huge write-up of King Lear performance. In the evening I went to a write-in. I didn't get all that much writing done, but I did read some interesting books. There was one outlining John Stuart Mill's market socialism suggestions, which seemed fairly intriguing. While others went home at the reasonable time of eleven, I and a friend left around two O'clock. On the wlak back I felt something speed through the gap between my arm and side as a car sped past. A few minutes later another object was thrown my way, a water balloon which bounced off my bag and dropped to the ground without bursting. I carried that balloon until gone 3, then at home it sat there taunting my, urging me to throw it at someone or something. In the end I cut a hole in the balloon and used the water to feed my herbs instead. I was going to go to bed then, but I got a text saying our old haousemate was ate the door (having been out drinking). We sat together in the kithen drinking Earl Grey until the sun came up. He gave me the home brewing set he'd left at the house and we left for his halls. I drank cider and was given a copy of Trainspotting to borrow at about six in the morning in the room of his insomniac friend. Later we had parmesan cheese, oil, vingegar and bread for breakfast. I was starting to slump in tiredness over my chinese tea, so I suggested a walk around the lake. The morning was glorious and I soon perked up. We wandered around and I found my philosophy gained more coherence as we went. After an hour or so we sat down on the bank of the lake and talked to the swans and cignets that paddled over. After ten I went home and tried making breakfast and reading. After another pot of tea I was functional enough not to fall asleep mid-sentence in a smooth transition between the world of reading and the neighbouring world of dreams. At midday I went to the market and bought peaches, back home (with some wine yeast) I mushed them up and sieved them into a juice to make the musk from. After a few hours I had a gallon of liquid to ferment over the next few weeks. After more reading and a pasta tea, at six I had a nap for two hours. Nine o'clock I was down in town at the Purple Turtle, which is a bit of a dive. I was there for about five hours with philosophy friends. I started talking to a Greek girl named Stephanie who had bumped into someone she went to school with, who happens to be a friend of mine's housemate. It also happened that her sister lives on the same road as me so I walked her home via a chicken-&-chips joint as she was starving. I even let her ride my bike in the park, something she'd not had a chance to do in recent times. It was a pleasant chance encounter that was the icing on the cake of a very long day. A lot of the day was spent talking to different people about my current philosophy of life. That everyday I am dedicated to doing at least one truly unique thing so as to avoid my life becoming a series of indistinguishable schemas. And that to avoid the past becoming an amorphous mess, I actively try to remember something interesting that I've done everyday. As is, I can remember what I've done for the last 37 days or so. A girl said to me: "You're an interesting person." and, flattered, I said that that was all that I hope to be. When we look similiar to one another we either mistake the other as an extension of ourselves or at least see ourselves and our interests in the other. This cannot be done so well when the differences are great. Perhaps here is a explanation for prejudices. If we were all the same to the extent that one would only be able to share negligible similarities with another, then prejudice born from dissimilarity would be nigh impossible because we would all know ourselves to be dissimilar. Whereas if all people were highly similiar then the most neglible of differences would stand out and generate prejudice. Perhaps this is a new argument for collective eccentricity and encouraged disparity of habit, interest and appearance. The other day I serenaded a friend with Anarchy in the U.K. on the ukulele. Even a superficially angry song is rendered joyous and enriching under such conditions. Now everyday I recite a litany of days. I can remember off the top of my head something unique for everyday since the third of May. "Gun rack accesible from the lying position..." Two lesser-documented phenomena: The ability to discern whether a word has the same number of letters as another word without counting. The 'sticky' sensation of finding a word you are looking for in a list. It suddenly jumps out and the eye is reluctant to move on. I made a fool out of myself when watching Eurovision. I was a little too enthusiastic. France were robbed! I've taken to eaten carrots raw on a tri-daily basis. They're as yummy as they were when I was a child. I accidentally ordered white wine in a restuarant where the waitress couldn't quite hear the difference between 'red' and 'white' (maybe I have unclear diction?). It was okay. I even drank champagne today, which I usually avoid on account of it being generally vile. I should probably write a play tomorrow if I get time. A deadline is approaching. Monday is a bankholiday- this is a nuisance because it effectively means that my permanant life of Saturdays is briefly turned into (what is effectively) a Sunday. Whenever I shave (once every eight days) it seems like I am erasing my own image and starting anew. When I see my new face, the memory of the old one fades and in moments I cannot bring to mind what I looked like before. I remember that as a child I looked into the mirror once and thought: "So that's what I look like!" Every time since takes me back to that moment, but I cannot recall the face in the mirror, my only memories of it are contained in old photos. I feel that if I shaved more often I wouldn't be able to remember who I was from one day to the next. My housemate has tidied the house. It looks beautiful, but I suspect that the tidying will be accompanied by resentful notes and residual grumpiness. I will try disarming thanks. I've finished my exams now so I am a free man. I've got over four months until my lectures start again. I am only just beginning to grasp that there is an ocean of time ahead and I must sail it well. In previous years I've fallen asleep and woken up to find August was gone. This summer I must read more, write more, research my dissertation, travel and catch up with friends. I must not waste my mornings sleeping until midday like before. I've got to get up early in the morning to do what I can. Current music: Arlo Guthrie. "For all x: if [x is a carrot and x is from Wokingham road] then Joey owns x." OR: "ALL TEH CARORTS IS MIEN!!1![sic]" Today I had a logic exam, looked at a lot of steampunk models and panic bought carrots. |
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