6 - …is what happens while I’m sleeping. I have chronic nightmares and talk in my sleep.
The former was most prevalent when I was a small child and bordered on night terrors. I only ever had about half a dozen recurring nightmares which I just kept revisiting. I still have very vivid dreams almost every night.
The latter, I seem to always have done, probably always will do. It seems to happen especially when I’m stressed or very busy. My mum has had several perfectly coherent mid-night conversations with me over the years – all of which I’ve had absolutely no recollection of in the morning!
technorati tag: me, sleep talking, nightmares
23 February 2007
19 February 2007
16 February 2007
sorry, I must have misheard you... you said climate-change gigs where?
'Johannesburg, London, Shanghai and Sydney are among the host cities [for the Live Earth gigs]. Three other concerts will take place in the US, Brazil and Japan, with the cities still to be decided. There will also be a concert in Antarctica.
At the press conference, organisers said Live Earth "will become the model for carbon neutral concerts and other live events in the future".' (BBC News report)
(Insert your own polar-bear-under-palm-tree punchline/ despairing head shake here)
technorati tag: live earth, climate change
At the press conference, organisers said Live Earth "will become the model for carbon neutral concerts and other live events in the future".' (BBC News report)
(Insert your own polar-bear-under-palm-tree punchline/ despairing head shake here)
technorati tag: live earth, climate change
13 February 2007
blog famine/ feast...
I’ve been far too busy at work (new contract, since you ask – wonderful, passionate, scary, big, important stuff, which might or might not leak on to here at some point in the future).
Things that I’ve not blogged because of being busy:
Steve Chalke’s interview in Education Guardian
An interesting but old Naomi Klein interview
And last week’s PHENOMENAL (and I don’t use that word or the CAPS lightly) Duke Special gig. It’s not too late to catch him on the road round the UK. Do it. I urge you.
Plus JonnyFun’s tagged me to let you know "six slightly weird things that you probably didn’t know about me". Now this is hot on the heels of the "five things that you probably didn’t know about me".
Frankly I think you all now know more things about me than most people I see daily so I might not take up the tag (shushes shouts of “spoil sport!” from the back). But then again I might if anything strikes me…
technorati tag: nonsense
Things that I’ve not blogged because of being busy:
Steve Chalke’s interview in Education Guardian
An interesting but old Naomi Klein interview
And last week’s PHENOMENAL (and I don’t use that word or the CAPS lightly) Duke Special gig. It’s not too late to catch him on the road round the UK. Do it. I urge you.
Plus JonnyFun’s tagged me to let you know "six slightly weird things that you probably didn’t know about me". Now this is hot on the heels of the "five things that you probably didn’t know about me".
Frankly I think you all now know more things about me than most people I see daily so I might not take up the tag (shushes shouts of “spoil sport!” from the back). But then again I might if anything strikes me…
technorati tag: nonsense
07 February 2007
tinkering times...
Thanks to Sal, I ended up spending an hour or so on Monday night making envelopes out of magazine pages and writing cards to send to people. Sal's new year's resolution is to send more real post to people... I like that!
06 February 2007
cynicism, realism, resignation, whatever...
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult who is overly nostalgic about childhood.
I have decided I wouldn’t like to accept the “responsibilities” of an eight year-old again. I always thought McDonald's was more of a punishment than a treat. I never spent endless summers playing in the mud – I was too busy reading indoors, complaining about being bored, falling out with friends, or arguing with my brother. I hoarded my pocket money, counted it obsessively and pestered my parents as often as I could for a “raise”. The trees on our road were all dead from Dutch Elm disease, and the closest I got to altruism or a bake sale was a Blue Peter “Bring and Buy” – and only then because I fancied Peter Duncan and wanted to get on TV.
I don’t think there was a time when life was that simple. I knew my colours, times tables, and nursery rhymes, but there were the things that I didn't know that did bother me – I once asked my dad why they couldn’t just print more money to stop people being poor. I was all too aware of all the potential for things to make me worried and upset – my brother being hit by a car, some of my family emigrating, the cat getting run over… I wanted to think the world was fair (but I knew better because once my whole class got held in detention for something that one girl did). I wanted to think that everyone was honest and good (but my mum was a magistrate and I quite often sat at the back of court waiting for her, so saw quite a lot of loss and punishment). OK, I did believe that anything was possible (but I still think it is). I want to be continually aware of the complexities of life AND be overly excited by the little things too.
I don't want my day to consist of easy nostalgia about how life was better back then… and in the time I’m waiting for the somewhere over the rainbow to arrive, I recognize that I’ll have to settle for computer crashes, piles of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, gossip, illness, and the loss of loved ones… Life’s like that – it was when we were eight, whether we knew it or not… But I do still believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, humankind, and making angels in the snow.So I’m keeping my cheque book, my credit card bills and my pay slips, if that’s alright. I am not officially resigning from adulthood.
(Without apology to this.)
technorati tag: adult resignation
I have decided I wouldn’t like to accept the “responsibilities” of an eight year-old again. I always thought McDonald's was more of a punishment than a treat. I never spent endless summers playing in the mud – I was too busy reading indoors, complaining about being bored, falling out with friends, or arguing with my brother. I hoarded my pocket money, counted it obsessively and pestered my parents as often as I could for a “raise”. The trees on our road were all dead from Dutch Elm disease, and the closest I got to altruism or a bake sale was a Blue Peter “Bring and Buy” – and only then because I fancied Peter Duncan and wanted to get on TV.
I don’t think there was a time when life was that simple. I knew my colours, times tables, and nursery rhymes, but there were the things that I didn't know that did bother me – I once asked my dad why they couldn’t just print more money to stop people being poor. I was all too aware of all the potential for things to make me worried and upset – my brother being hit by a car, some of my family emigrating, the cat getting run over… I wanted to think the world was fair (but I knew better because once my whole class got held in detention for something that one girl did). I wanted to think that everyone was honest and good (but my mum was a magistrate and I quite often sat at the back of court waiting for her, so saw quite a lot of loss and punishment). OK, I did believe that anything was possible (but I still think it is). I want to be continually aware of the complexities of life AND be overly excited by the little things too.
I don't want my day to consist of easy nostalgia about how life was better back then… and in the time I’m waiting for the somewhere over the rainbow to arrive, I recognize that I’ll have to settle for computer crashes, piles of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, gossip, illness, and the loss of loved ones… Life’s like that – it was when we were eight, whether we knew it or not… But I do still believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, humankind, and making angels in the snow.So I’m keeping my cheque book, my credit card bills and my pay slips, if that’s alright. I am not officially resigning from adulthood.
(Without apology to this.)
technorati tag: adult resignation
31 January 2007
lost property...
Lost property - do you know the owner of this?
It used to be Quay Bar, then briefly was Canteena. Then it seemed to be some dodgyish club after Canteena closed down. Now it's a graffitied, smoke-stained, broken-windowed, boarded up mess.
Does anyone know if it is Uncle Tom's Cabin or not?
technorati tag: urban splash, manchester, castlefield
29 January 2007
...in black...
Some days, without knowing why, you get up and feel like wearing black, yeah? (OK so I have an inkling...)
Today was one of the days. And it was justified it turns out - I heard two personal, terrible, tragic pieces of news this morning.
The Man in Black (who wore it for "the poor, the broken down, the prisoner, the sick, the lonely, the old, the mourning ones") himself sang:
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way...
Sadly, very fitting.
technorati tag: johnny cash, hurt, the man in black
Today was one of the days. And it was justified it turns out - I heard two personal, terrible, tragic pieces of news this morning.
The Man in Black (who wore it for "the poor, the broken down, the prisoner, the sick, the lonely, the old, the mourning ones") himself sang:
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way...
Sadly, very fitting.
technorati tag: johnny cash, hurt, the man in black
22 January 2007
0 degrees...
It was with a sense of anticipation that we trudged through Manchester’s cold and windy streets to the 0 degrees of separation gig at The Bridgewater Hall. I’d been offered a free ticket through work, and we decided it was an interesting enough bill - four folk/ acoustic artists including Vetiver, Juana Molina, Adem and Vashti Bunyan - to spend the £15 to get M in too.
I’d heard of Vashti Bunyan because of her 60s renown, and subsequent thirty year absence from the music scene. On that basis alone, we decided the others were surely worth the punt – they were after all on the same bill as the English Joni Mitchell. In the end, Bunyan seemed to be the one holding the night back, whilst the young ‘uns jammed their way to a memorable gig. Sure, it was nice that they all collaborated on each other’s numbers but I left thinking that Bunyan might have good reason to have shunned recording and performing for three decades… Her intros to each song were whispered comments on this track that she’d written nearly forty years ago and was now dedicating to her children. Hmmm.
But the others – where to start! Juana Molina was like the bastard step-child of Imogen Heap and KT Tunstall’s foster parents (yes she is that weird!), with her red velvet party dress and click-your-heels-together red sequin pumps. Vetiver were so laid back they were horizontal, but ticking over just enough to demonstrate their Americana roots. And Adem launched us into another world…
The Guardian last week gave it a four star review. I’d give Juana, Vetiver and Adem a solid four stars, and (you guessed it), only one for Bunyan. A five star gig then, but not quite in the way that I was expecting…
technorati tag: 0 degrees of separation
I’d heard of Vashti Bunyan because of her 60s renown, and subsequent thirty year absence from the music scene. On that basis alone, we decided the others were surely worth the punt – they were after all on the same bill as the English Joni Mitchell. In the end, Bunyan seemed to be the one holding the night back, whilst the young ‘uns jammed their way to a memorable gig. Sure, it was nice that they all collaborated on each other’s numbers but I left thinking that Bunyan might have good reason to have shunned recording and performing for three decades… Her intros to each song were whispered comments on this track that she’d written nearly forty years ago and was now dedicating to her children. Hmmm.
But the others – where to start! Juana Molina was like the bastard step-child of Imogen Heap and KT Tunstall’s foster parents (yes she is that weird!), with her red velvet party dress and click-your-heels-together red sequin pumps. Vetiver were so laid back they were horizontal, but ticking over just enough to demonstrate their Americana roots. And Adem launched us into another world…
The Guardian last week gave it a four star review. I’d give Juana, Vetiver and Adem a solid four stars, and (you guessed it), only one for Bunyan. A five star gig then, but not quite in the way that I was expecting…
technorati tag: 0 degrees of separation
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
There was a flutter last night in central Manchester, and (promises, promises) apparently some more to come later tonight too...
Woo-hoo! Winter's here.
technorati tag: snow
Woo-hoo! Winter's here.
technorati tag: snow
18 January 2007
into great silence...
I read recently that one of the golden rules of creative writing was “don’t tell the reader, show them”, meaning that explanation is patronizing and ultimately detracts from the narrative. Philip Groning might well have had this line in his head when he filmed his three-hour documentary, Into Great Silence, about the monastery, La Grande Chartreuse, and its order of Carthusian monks.
I’m so glad he chose not to make an “explanatory” documentary – this was immersive cinema, which is exactly what it needed to be. I don’t think it could have been anything else. In that sense, it reminded me a little of Koyanisquatsi. Put simply, it was a series of beautiful moving-photographs, capturing the natural and built environments, the rhythmic daily life of the monks, and of course the silence…
Yes, I had little idea what the chants all meant; yes, the on-screen quotes jarred occasionally (especially when they’re in French and German, thus subtitled right at the bottom of the screen in English); yes, I spent the first 30 minutes feeling acutely aware of the rustle of every single person in the sold-out cinema. Even a little explanation (a smooth voiceover by Morgan Freeman a la The March of the Penguins?) would have killed it.
What’s more, you can’t exactly rush a film that took 16 years even to get permission to make and is essentially about a life of intense, focused, reflective contemplation measured out by seasons and in rhythm to a 900 year old daily pattern. To try and fit it into a neat 120 minutes would have felt wrong. Like slow food is to McDonalds, this is to your average Hollywood blockbuster. I am also struggling to think of the last time I was in the cinema with such a respectful audience. OK, I was the youngest by about twenty years, but a less cinematic bunch I couldn’t have imagined. I reckoned everyone else there either was or wanted to be a priest or a nun…
On reflection, it would have been difficult to make a film about the life of this monastery that wasn’t beautiful. My memories of it now are only of elementary essentials: shafts of light, flickering candles, simple food, snow, sunshine, reading and writing, chants, wooden spoons, long corridors, and of course that silence…
The daily reality of the monks’ lives was to me a mix of the unexpected and to-be-expected. The unexpected? Them sliding down a snow covered hill and whooping in delight, the plastic bottles, their electric razors, feeding the cats. The expected? The monks praying, praying, and then praying some more - in the flickering light of the chapel, in their simple wooden cells, at all times of the day and through every season. And that silence…
It’s not a lifestyle that I would want to live, but it’s an incredible and privileged glimpse into a life a world away from mine. The monks’ economy of action and focus of attention is something that I envy on one level – as if everything has become so simple and so condensed and so thoughtful that nothing else matters.
To start with I felt a bit voyeuristic watching them move slowly about the monastery, but my initial worries that there were no main characters to hang 167 minutes of “action” on were put aside as, even without words, the men came to life on the screen – the young one, the ancient and stooped gardener/ cook, the novice…
Towards the end, one old monk – who was blind and partially deaf – said a few simple sentences about his beliefs. One of those stuck with me: “The world has lost any sense of God. It is a pity…” And it was the one time that I wanted to speak out and break that silence…
I’m so glad he chose not to make an “explanatory” documentary – this was immersive cinema, which is exactly what it needed to be. I don’t think it could have been anything else. In that sense, it reminded me a little of Koyanisquatsi. Put simply, it was a series of beautiful moving-photographs, capturing the natural and built environments, the rhythmic daily life of the monks, and of course the silence…
Yes, I had little idea what the chants all meant; yes, the on-screen quotes jarred occasionally (especially when they’re in French and German, thus subtitled right at the bottom of the screen in English); yes, I spent the first 30 minutes feeling acutely aware of the rustle of every single person in the sold-out cinema. Even a little explanation (a smooth voiceover by Morgan Freeman a la The March of the Penguins?) would have killed it.
What’s more, you can’t exactly rush a film that took 16 years even to get permission to make and is essentially about a life of intense, focused, reflective contemplation measured out by seasons and in rhythm to a 900 year old daily pattern. To try and fit it into a neat 120 minutes would have felt wrong. Like slow food is to McDonalds, this is to your average Hollywood blockbuster. I am also struggling to think of the last time I was in the cinema with such a respectful audience. OK, I was the youngest by about twenty years, but a less cinematic bunch I couldn’t have imagined. I reckoned everyone else there either was or wanted to be a priest or a nun…
On reflection, it would have been difficult to make a film about the life of this monastery that wasn’t beautiful. My memories of it now are only of elementary essentials: shafts of light, flickering candles, simple food, snow, sunshine, reading and writing, chants, wooden spoons, long corridors, and of course that silence…
The daily reality of the monks’ lives was to me a mix of the unexpected and to-be-expected. The unexpected? Them sliding down a snow covered hill and whooping in delight, the plastic bottles, their electric razors, feeding the cats. The expected? The monks praying, praying, and then praying some more - in the flickering light of the chapel, in their simple wooden cells, at all times of the day and through every season. And that silence…
It’s not a lifestyle that I would want to live, but it’s an incredible and privileged glimpse into a life a world away from mine. The monks’ economy of action and focus of attention is something that I envy on one level – as if everything has become so simple and so condensed and so thoughtful that nothing else matters.
To start with I felt a bit voyeuristic watching them move slowly about the monastery, but my initial worries that there were no main characters to hang 167 minutes of “action” on were put aside as, even without words, the men came to life on the screen – the young one, the ancient and stooped gardener/ cook, the novice…
Towards the end, one old monk – who was blind and partially deaf – said a few simple sentences about his beliefs. One of those stuck with me: “The world has lost any sense of God. It is a pity…” And it was the one time that I wanted to speak out and break that silence…
technorati tag: into great silence
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