I'm taking time out from blogging for a few weeks. In the meantime, there's ample stuff on here for whomever wishes to read it. I'll re-post in about two weeks - when I've got my act together. (And when I've also got a handle on a few words (the spellings of which I should know) - words like epitome, silhouette and silage.) Yeah, I know 'em now, but give it a few days; my brain's as rusty as the Tin Man's wife's vagina* (except that she'd have to be made out of iron to become rusty. Anyway, I'm sure you get the jist of that poor attempt at a joke). Keep reading, and stay happy. See you folks soon!
Rob.
*Hey, I may be on to something here! The idiots who made The Wizard of Oz may've told a scientific mistruth. Fuck them! The Tin Man's joints, by logic, should never have ceased up. Now I've got to find out if tin rusts. Oh, Jesus - it's always something! Oh, well, I guess I'd better go find something 'important' to do - maybe I'll just pick at my arse for half an hour, moving on to my balls and nose after having a good old probe. Yeah, sounds like a fuckin' plan!
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
WATCH THESE VIDEOS.
George Carlin on Bill Maher's show in 2005 - dealing with such things as neo-conservative fascism, hurricane Katrina and wealth. Watch this - it's pretty fucking important; even if it is four years old.
George Carlin on The View (2008) shortly before he died - discussing such things as his career, pivotal points in his life, environmentalism and being old:
Also, although irrelevant to the former video, check out this fantastic song by Band of Horses - Ode to LRC (from Cease to Begin (2007)). Though please note that the album cover on this video is incorrect; it's the cover from their first album: Everything, All the Time. Here's the song:
George Carlin on The View (2008) shortly before he died - discussing such things as his career, pivotal points in his life, environmentalism and being old:
Also, although irrelevant to the former video, check out this fantastic song by Band of Horses - Ode to LRC (from Cease to Begin (2007)). Though please note that the album cover on this video is incorrect; it's the cover from their first album: Everything, All the Time. Here's the song:
A few thoughts on sin.
If all sins are equal (this is the kind of shit Christians believe), and God forgives all, then why the fuck be Christian? Why not rape, pillage, curse, defile, steal, cheat, covet (as if that's a fucking sin) and murder? (Oh, wait - Christians do that all the time!) And, whilst we're on the subject, don't forget all those other sins like homosexuality and sodomy and what not. Gay men are fucked! (Excuse the pun.) But lesbians are okay in God's book; God probably does like titties after all. (Oh, come on! He's only fuckin' human! Give the guy a fuckin' break!) Why not go against that Christ fellow whom you're all so mad about and just be fuckin' jerks your whole lives, huh?
Oh, hang on, those are very un-Christian things, right! If all one has to do to be forgiven is 'welcome' Jesus into one's heart, then why not sin all one's life and say 'Oh, sorry, my precious Lord, for turning out to be yet another of your fucked-up creations' just before death? (In circumstances where death is known to be imminent, of course - it wouldn't help if you were to die via being crushed by a ten-tonne piece of whale shit falling randomly from the sky.)
It wouldn't make a difference - if you apply logic to these fucked-up beliefs - if you sin your whole life or never sin once (because everyone, according to God, gets to be pardoned if they ask for forgiveness). Why even live a good life? I think that - in order that all these poor Christian folks can be saved - God needs to send plenty more Jesuses. Oh, hang on: there is no God. There are no gods or godesses or deities or divine, immortal god progeny - prophets to you and me; not one. There never was a monotheistic god, there never were polytheistic gods, and there never will be; not one. Never.
Good night!
Oh, hang on, those are very un-Christian things, right! If all one has to do to be forgiven is 'welcome' Jesus into one's heart, then why not sin all one's life and say 'Oh, sorry, my precious Lord, for turning out to be yet another of your fucked-up creations' just before death? (In circumstances where death is known to be imminent, of course - it wouldn't help if you were to die via being crushed by a ten-tonne piece of whale shit falling randomly from the sky.)
It wouldn't make a difference - if you apply logic to these fucked-up beliefs - if you sin your whole life or never sin once (because everyone, according to God, gets to be pardoned if they ask for forgiveness). Why even live a good life? I think that - in order that all these poor Christian folks can be saved - God needs to send plenty more Jesuses. Oh, hang on: there is no God. There are no gods or godesses or deities or divine, immortal god progeny - prophets to you and me; not one. There never was a monotheistic god, there never were polytheistic gods, and there never will be; not one. Never.
Good night!
A short conversation between an atheist and an evangelical Christian (or Christ stains, as I call 'em).
Mr Atheist: Why, hello there, Mr Christian.
Mr Christian: Oh, hello. Sure is a nice day, huh? Thank the Lord!
Mr Atheist: Right.... Anyway, I have something to ask you.
Mr Christian: Really! Oh, how exciting. Please, proceed.
Mr Atheist: Yeah. Sure. Anyway, what's so special about being a Christian?
Mr Christian: I'm not sure what you mean, dear fellow.
Mr Atheist: What I mean is this: hypothetically, if you were born in Pakistan you'd be a Muslim worshipping Mohammed, praying three times a day towards Mecca, following the Five Pillars of Islam and worshipping Allah. You follow?
Mr Christian: I'm not sure I do. Carry on.
Mr Atheist: Well, you're a Christian, right?
Mr Christian: Yes, I am - and I'm of the Christian Right (hahahaha!)
Mr Atheist: Well, if you were born in another country you'd be following a different religion with different idols and gods and different sets of prophets.
Mr Christian: Oh, I doubt that very much.
Mr Atheist: Really? That doesn't make sense to me.
Mr Christian: And why not?
Mr Atheist: Well, by your 'logic' - if you're right - there should be only Christians in the world, for by your 'logic' you'd still be a Christian even if you were born in Pakistan.
Mr Christian: Yes. That's what I said.
Mr Atheist: Well, you're obviously wrong because there is most definitely a large population of Muslims occupying the various territories of Pakistan.
Mr Christian: But, but, but -
Mr Atheist: Ah, bah-bah-bah. Enough! By your logic, you should be right. But you're not. That means that either you or all the Muslims and other religious people out there are wrong. Could it be that both Christians and Muslims are wrong? Could it be that every religious person is wrong, refusing to be logical and realistic?
Mr Christian: La, la, la, la, la; I can't hear you.
Mr Atheist: Logic wins again.
Look out for many more conversations which have yet to come, folks. Stay tuned and thanks for watching; we'll be right back after this commercial break:
This post was brought to you by: GO OUT AND BUY SHIT YOU DON'T NEED! BUY IT! FUCKING BUY IT, YOU WORTHLESS CONSUMER; YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING CUNT! Available in shops now and for ever and ever 'til the last shopper dies of a coronary infarction.
Mr Christian: Oh, hello. Sure is a nice day, huh? Thank the Lord!
Mr Atheist: Right.... Anyway, I have something to ask you.
Mr Christian: Really! Oh, how exciting. Please, proceed.
Mr Atheist: Yeah. Sure. Anyway, what's so special about being a Christian?
Mr Christian: I'm not sure what you mean, dear fellow.
Mr Atheist: What I mean is this: hypothetically, if you were born in Pakistan you'd be a Muslim worshipping Mohammed, praying three times a day towards Mecca, following the Five Pillars of Islam and worshipping Allah. You follow?
Mr Christian: I'm not sure I do. Carry on.
Mr Atheist: Well, you're a Christian, right?
Mr Christian: Yes, I am - and I'm of the Christian Right (hahahaha!)
Mr Atheist: Well, if you were born in another country you'd be following a different religion with different idols and gods and different sets of prophets.
Mr Christian: Oh, I doubt that very much.
Mr Atheist: Really? That doesn't make sense to me.
Mr Christian: And why not?
Mr Atheist: Well, by your 'logic' - if you're right - there should be only Christians in the world, for by your 'logic' you'd still be a Christian even if you were born in Pakistan.
Mr Christian: Yes. That's what I said.
Mr Atheist: Well, you're obviously wrong because there is most definitely a large population of Muslims occupying the various territories of Pakistan.
Mr Christian: But, but, but -
Mr Atheist: Ah, bah-bah-bah. Enough! By your logic, you should be right. But you're not. That means that either you or all the Muslims and other religious people out there are wrong. Could it be that both Christians and Muslims are wrong? Could it be that every religious person is wrong, refusing to be logical and realistic?
Mr Christian: La, la, la, la, la; I can't hear you.
Mr Atheist: Logic wins again.
Look out for many more conversations which have yet to come, folks. Stay tuned and thanks for watching; we'll be right back after this commercial break:
This post was brought to you by: GO OUT AND BUY SHIT YOU DON'T NEED! BUY IT! FUCKING BUY IT, YOU WORTHLESS CONSUMER; YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING CUNT! Available in shops now and for ever and ever 'til the last shopper dies of a coronary infarction.
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
A short story in six chapters - the traveller.
Note to reader: I'm sorry about the unpalatable form - I usually write in indented paragraphs.
Prologue:
“All things lead back to their sources,” my father had always maintained. For my sake, I'd always hoped that sentiment to be untrue.
I'm twenty-three. My name's not important. Peter, James, Gordon, Dave – it's all the same. Life never lived up to my expectations. When you think about it, life is made of two things: what we inherit; and what we're able to do. I guess what we're able to do is determined by what we inherit.
A job, dole pay, schooling, religion, marriage, divorce, commuting, insuring, buying and selling; living and dying. Life seems like a pre-determined set of events designed and conjured by some toothless, careless, loveless drunk.
I left home at the age of twenty-one. I was hesitant at first. The world runs only on the hard work of people; it could fall apart at any moment by accident of nature or some social cataclysm.
Who knows what motivates people? Money, love, faith, indifference? I don't know if people have faith any more. I don't believe in faith. Faith is for the helpless; the simple-minded. Faith is for those who need rescuing by the things in whom they invest their faith.
Religion, karma, money, luck, reward – who the fuck knows what bullshit people believe today to keep them from nearing the tipping point?
People are fucking nuts. And yet the only thing in which we can have faith is the goodness of people. Those rare scintillations of goodness people possess are the only things which separate us from the beasts of this Earth; and those things seem to be getting rarer - in my threadbare eyes, at least.
And so one day I began walking. I began walking, working as I went. Working merely to acquire sustenance and supplies. Walking and working to acquire some means of direction. Maybe I walk to put off identifying direction. Who knows? I've never given it that much thought; I just walk.
Chapter 1:
The moon filtered through the clouds. The closest, densest clouds were silhouetted black and slid across the Moon's face like behemoth circus elephants.
The closer clouds were grey and slid across like prison breakers evading a searchlight. Around the white orb, suspended in the atmosphere, hung a haze of diaphanous vapour, splaying the light across the immediate sky like a cluster of forlorn and dying fireflies.
The young man, wearing a travellers' backpack, trudged across the crests of the moor's many undulations. He'd given up on life's dreams. To live life's dreams, he'd surmised, required one to be asleep.
His shoulders and back were weighted with around fifty pounds of equipment. That's a heavy load, I'm sure, but he'd got used to the strain. In the pack was a basic cotton quilt (with no cover, of course), a few pots and pans, a portable heater, several books of matches, food (mostly non-perishables such as grain and dried fruit – which would keep his bowel movements at a steady pace), water, some spare clothes, and a few books.
He carried a wallet and a mobile, and he kept a wind-up charger and a phone charger to keep his essential little gizmos wired with life. The books he carried were classics, mostly – Dostoevsky, Camus, Kafka, Orwell. But he also carried the odd modern classic; one can't beat the odd Bukowski, Kerouac or Hunter S. Thompson.
He'd usually buy his books second-hand and give them back to charity shops upon completion. He'd read hundreds of books – thousands, maybe – but he couldn't take even one with him as he set out from home two years previous. He wore hiking boots, denims, two t-shirts, a black zip-up fleece and a skull-cap. The winter night was approaching its zenith as he walked. In seven or eight hours light would flood the horizon and pour into his travel-worn eyes.
Chapter 2:
In the distance I could see the faint glow of a town; a town like an ember held in the palms of a dark, horizontal giant.
As I approached, I could hear the clatter of glasses and the baritone rumblings of men coming from the sudsy hub of their homestead.
The warm smell of malt hung faintly in the chilled air. Vapour escaped from a vent emanating from the pub's steamy kitchen.
I entered the hubbub and removed my pack, looking for a place at the bar. I placed my pack beside a stool and sat, rubbing my palms and gazing from left to right as if sitting between two people engaged in fiery discourse.
'Hey, what's your local bitter like?'
'Wet and bitter.'
'Right. Well, I'll have a pint of that then, please.'
'Fine,' said the sanguine-cheeked, middle-aged, rose-haired proprietress.
At a table in the corner sat three local village girls. One – a blonde-haired, green-eyed gal with eyebrows like thin wisps of heaven and a gently tapering face – caught his eye. She was wearing an elegant, peach nylon dress but she looked younger than he.
She saw him scanning the corner; saw his hazel, piercing eyes and she smiled. He turned to his bitter and cupped the base of the glass with both hands.
In one movement he shrugged and stood, gesturing to the barmaid that he was to briefly leave his seat and pack. She returned with a smile and a knowing wink.
As he rose, the girl leaned forward and muttered something to her friends. It must've been along the lines of 'he's coming over', because they both rose, straightened their airy dresses and motioned towards the ladies' toilet.
He approached and gestured at the space. She shrugged, pushing out her bottom lip and lifting her hands, palms-up, in a 'what-the-hell?' expression.
He sat, supping at his bitter, and leaned back.
'What's your name?' he enquired.
'Susan - but you can call me Susie. What's yours?'
He paused for a few seconds, keeping her in suspense. She looked searchingly at him. He broke the moment: 'Henry. My name's Henry.'
'Well, it's good to meet you.'
'Are you sure?'
'Well, I guess I'll find out.'
'Susie?'
'Yeah.'
'What's a pretty young thing like you doing sitting all lonesome in a pub?'
'Well, what else is a girl to do of an evening?'
They both laughed. She tilted back her head slightly.
'So, Henry, what do you do?
'Do?'
'Yeah,' she laughed.
'Nothin'.'
'Nothin'?'
'Yeah.'
'You mean you don't do anything?'
'That's correct.'
'Well, what do you do?'
He paused for a second, jutting out his bottom jaw, raising his eyebrows and pressing together his lips into a quizzical countenance.
'Well, I travel. I'm a travelling man. I don't work.'
'No?'
'Nuh-uh. I don't believe in work; I believe in labour and recompense, but I have no calling.'
'No calling?'
'Yes. I've been to university, but my path has grown somewhat overgrown. This could be the end of the road, or merely an interruption. What do you do, Susie?'
'Me? Well, I'm at college.'
'Studying?'
'Sociology, History and Maths.'
'That's quite some line-up.'
'Thanks.'
'You like compliments?'
'Not really.'
She looked down at her side, laughed and then rose. Her mouth bore teeth like cut glass. She settled and gazed into his eyes. He sipped his drink and looked down at her half-finished gin and T.
'Care for another?'
She looked down at her glass, swirling the liquid and shaking the half-melted ice and lime in turn.
'Nah, I think I'm fine, thanks.'
'You sure?'
'Yeah, you know. I shouldn't.'
'You shouldn't?'
'Yeah.'
'Says who?'
She laughed. 'Don't be so blasé.'
'Blasé? That's quite a big word for a college student.'
'Actually, it's a short word'. She sipped at her drink and snorted, almost losing the last remaining ice cube.
'Come on. What are you having?'
'Another one of those-'
'Gin and tonics?'
'Yeah,' he mused. 'I haven't had one of those in, say... five months.'
'Well, it's a summer drink and I'm a summer girl, but the chilly November air won't stop me from glugging the odd gin.'
'Glugging? I don't think such an action befits a lady of such high esteem.'
'Really?' she enquired, in a 19th century Edwardian accent. 'Well, a-thank you, Mr Darcy.'
'Much obliged, madame.'
'Listen, I like you. Why don't we cut the crap and split.'
'Split?'
'Yeah, I've got a bottle of bourbon back home and the parents are away.'
She flicked her blonde curls from her shoulders, gesticulating to him to reply. 'What do you think?'
'Well, that's some proposal.'
'Indeed it is.'
He swigged the last of his bitter, wiping his top lip free of the sticky excess. 'Why not?'
They exited the pub. He adjusted his pack and lifted an arm invitingly. She snuggled up close and he settled an arm upon her shoulder. His skin brushed the coarse fibres of her knee-length coat. They began to walk.
Chapter 3:
He woke at 3am with a start, his head heavy from the bourbon he'd drunk earlier. The moon hung low in the sky and his brow was beetled with several large beads of sweat.
He gazed over at the girl. The sheet was drawn up to her mid-riff, revealing her shapely waist and back. The notches of her spine were bevelled startlingly against the soft, cold-defined satin of her pale, goose-fleshed skin.
Her breasts hung daintily; her hair was brushed back over one shoulder, revealing a lilliputian, gold, chain-linked necklace.
He reclined, kissing her shoulder. She turned, slowly.
'Hey.'
'Hey.'
She brushed the hairs of his chest with one hand and raised it to hush his speech-ready lips.
'How was it?'
'Sex.'
'Sex?'
'Sex is sex is sex.'
She laughed.
'You're different from most girls I've been with.'
'Different?'
'Yeah, you're that little bit younger... and that little bit tighter.'
He paused, then collapsed into laughter.
'Sorry.'
She thumped his arm and rolled atop him.
'I'll make you sorry you said that.'
'Honey, nothing you could do could possibly make me feel sorry.'
He pressed his lips against hers and slowly turned her to lay her upon her back.
Chapter 4:
In the morning, the birds chirped with vigour and the scents of her parents' many garden flowers filled his nostrils. The whirring of a steam kettle finally stirred him to life. He rose, sitting on the edge of the bed, and began to rub his eyes.
Clad in boxer shorts, he strolled into the kitchen and caressed her gown-covered shoulders.
'Morning.'
'Morning. I hope this isn't the usual method by which you obtain life's necessities.'
'No. You know, most women are content with just oral sex.'
She tapped him and giggled.
'Toast?'
'Yes, please.'
'Coffee?'
'Milky, two sugars.'
'Jam, peanut butter, Marmite?'
'Marmite? Fuck that! Jam, please.' He paused briefly. 'Hey, it's Sunday, right?'
'Yep. What do you wanna do?'
Well, ideally I'd like to do the following in the following order: breakfast, sex, pub, sex, stroll, sex, sex, sex. Maybe the sex parts are negotiable.'
'What am I to you, some floozy?'
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't worry, honey: that I am.'
He smiled at her. 'Oh, let me pour that coffee for you. Sugar?'
'One, please.'
He placed the cups upon the table. She brought over the toast.
'So, Henry, you've fucked me – wanna start discussing marriage?'
'I would do, but I'm already tethered.' He raised a hand to show his ring finger. 'Shit! I must've pawned my ring by accident.... Oh, well.'
She tilted back her head and released a gaggle of hearty laughs, settling after a few seconds to look at Henry.
'So, shall I introduce you to my friends?'
'What am I - your pet?'
'No. Not yet. But they may just find you interesting; possibly more interesting than I do.'
'That's hardly likely.'
'Correct.'
They both paused for a few seconds. Henry looked uneasy, rubbing his palms, then he proceeded.
'Listen, we haven't had a chance to talk. I really have to leave tomorrow. I've got to cover a lot of ground.'
'Well, you don't have to. What is it exactly you're aiming to do?'
'I want to walk this country – length and breadth. Then I want to walk it some more – working and reading as I go.'
'That sounds amazing.'
'Yeah. I hope it will be.'
'Is there one more space on the itinerary?' she joked.
He looked at her piercingly and then relaxed into a smile.
'I have thought of that; it's a lonely road, after all. But I have to walk it alone. If I were to invite another, my entire interpretation of events would become skewed; different. You see?'
'Kinda, but what if the second version is the better?'
'I don't think it can be. I must experience the yet-to-come with solitary eyes. If another were to walk with me I might lose track of things. Besides, you're young; pretty. You've got your entire life ahead of you. You've got college. I'm just a passing stranger. I may change you but I'm not your future; I'm not any future....' He paused. 'I'm just a moment.'
She gazed at him - half in pity; half in adoration – as he looked into his lap. She slid a hand over to his and held it.
'What is it you want to accomplish?' She squeezed his hand, urging him on.
'I don't know.'
He removed her hand from his and settled it on the table reassuringly, giving it a soft tap. He bit into his toast and raised the cup to his mouth.
'Do you want to go for a walk in a minute, Henry?'
'Why not? Do you want to go now?'
'Well, yes, but what about your breakfast?'
'Forget about it – I'll warm it later. Shall we go?'
They spent the afternoon wondering the woodland paths and cobbled streets of the small village. She nestled her head in his chest as they walked. They sat briefly on a park bench and watched the afternoon sun drift into view and then continually hide behind grey giants in the mottled winter sky. They talked. They kissed. Friends of her parents saw them and gazed with a mixture of curiousness, mild scorn, interest and envy.
He left her early the next morning. He came into her life briefly and exited with haste; a man of impetus, searching for nothing in particular; a victim of the twenty-first century – just as confused, dazed and disenfranchised as the next person, but in need of some supra-city existence. A compulsion no more and no less than finding his soul drives him on. He'll lose and gain whilst on the road. He'll make many a valuable friend and lover overnight - and lose them by the afternoons of a few days later. This is the life he's chosen. He chooses to live it with conviction. He's building towards something immense. Who knows what's around the corner?
Chapter 5:
I went to university at the tender age of eighteen in 2005; I finished in 2008 at the age of twenty-one. I bummed around for a few months. I worked at a call-centre, selling some shit-poke set-top box insurance.
'Good afternoon, Miss I've-Got-No-Fucking-Time-For-You. How are you today?'
'Go fuck myself?'
'Well, thanks for your time?'
'May I arrange a call-'
'BEEEEEEP!'
Fuck that shit. I left within three weeks. I sat around at home, feeling like killing myself. I'd never been laid. I'd never been happy. I'd always been hateful. The summer of 2008 was a good one. I found Ray LaMontagne's Till the Sun Turns Black, and I got into a little Washington State-based band called Modest Mouse.
I wanted to become a happy person; a good person. After three months of bullshittin' and smooth-talkin' people, I took a good, long look at myself in the mirror.
'Who the fuck are you, you ugly fuck?'
'What the fuck do you want with me?'
'Is this living? You fucking tell me.'
With a little preparation I suddenly knew my direction: I had no fucking direction. Maybe I was young and reckless and willfully ignorant of all things sensible, but I had to get the fuck out of there; out of that soul-devouring city. My home town wasn't all bad. Don't get me wrong. But all one sees is crowd after crowd of painted, confused faces; too many faces. Every few months, I'd look back at how I was a few months earlier – and I'd be fucking disgusted. I'd always see some pathetic cocoon writhing around trying to become a butterfly.
I'd wake up in the small hours and those faces would be on the wall – haunted and haunting. My face would be in there somewhere, too; lost within the incongruous features.
I came to a conclusion: I had to walk. People go on and on about travelling. Where? Where the fuck do you want to travel? The Far East? Why? Is that the popular locale this month? Is it one of those 100-places-to-see-before-you-die locations? Travelling isn't an activity; it's a state of mind. You move. You never stop moving. One day, you're going to die. There's only one certainty: you'll probably be horizontal when you kick the bucket.
Chapter 6:
To be continued....
Prologue:
“All things lead back to their sources,” my father had always maintained. For my sake, I'd always hoped that sentiment to be untrue.
I'm twenty-three. My name's not important. Peter, James, Gordon, Dave – it's all the same. Life never lived up to my expectations. When you think about it, life is made of two things: what we inherit; and what we're able to do. I guess what we're able to do is determined by what we inherit.
A job, dole pay, schooling, religion, marriage, divorce, commuting, insuring, buying and selling; living and dying. Life seems like a pre-determined set of events designed and conjured by some toothless, careless, loveless drunk.
I left home at the age of twenty-one. I was hesitant at first. The world runs only on the hard work of people; it could fall apart at any moment by accident of nature or some social cataclysm.
Who knows what motivates people? Money, love, faith, indifference? I don't know if people have faith any more. I don't believe in faith. Faith is for the helpless; the simple-minded. Faith is for those who need rescuing by the things in whom they invest their faith.
Religion, karma, money, luck, reward – who the fuck knows what bullshit people believe today to keep them from nearing the tipping point?
People are fucking nuts. And yet the only thing in which we can have faith is the goodness of people. Those rare scintillations of goodness people possess are the only things which separate us from the beasts of this Earth; and those things seem to be getting rarer - in my threadbare eyes, at least.
And so one day I began walking. I began walking, working as I went. Working merely to acquire sustenance and supplies. Walking and working to acquire some means of direction. Maybe I walk to put off identifying direction. Who knows? I've never given it that much thought; I just walk.
Chapter 1:
The moon filtered through the clouds. The closest, densest clouds were silhouetted black and slid across the Moon's face like behemoth circus elephants.
The closer clouds were grey and slid across like prison breakers evading a searchlight. Around the white orb, suspended in the atmosphere, hung a haze of diaphanous vapour, splaying the light across the immediate sky like a cluster of forlorn and dying fireflies.
The young man, wearing a travellers' backpack, trudged across the crests of the moor's many undulations. He'd given up on life's dreams. To live life's dreams, he'd surmised, required one to be asleep.
His shoulders and back were weighted with around fifty pounds of equipment. That's a heavy load, I'm sure, but he'd got used to the strain. In the pack was a basic cotton quilt (with no cover, of course), a few pots and pans, a portable heater, several books of matches, food (mostly non-perishables such as grain and dried fruit – which would keep his bowel movements at a steady pace), water, some spare clothes, and a few books.
He carried a wallet and a mobile, and he kept a wind-up charger and a phone charger to keep his essential little gizmos wired with life. The books he carried were classics, mostly – Dostoevsky, Camus, Kafka, Orwell. But he also carried the odd modern classic; one can't beat the odd Bukowski, Kerouac or Hunter S. Thompson.
He'd usually buy his books second-hand and give them back to charity shops upon completion. He'd read hundreds of books – thousands, maybe – but he couldn't take even one with him as he set out from home two years previous. He wore hiking boots, denims, two t-shirts, a black zip-up fleece and a skull-cap. The winter night was approaching its zenith as he walked. In seven or eight hours light would flood the horizon and pour into his travel-worn eyes.
Chapter 2:
In the distance I could see the faint glow of a town; a town like an ember held in the palms of a dark, horizontal giant.
As I approached, I could hear the clatter of glasses and the baritone rumblings of men coming from the sudsy hub of their homestead.
The warm smell of malt hung faintly in the chilled air. Vapour escaped from a vent emanating from the pub's steamy kitchen.
I entered the hubbub and removed my pack, looking for a place at the bar. I placed my pack beside a stool and sat, rubbing my palms and gazing from left to right as if sitting between two people engaged in fiery discourse.
'Hey, what's your local bitter like?'
'Wet and bitter.'
'Right. Well, I'll have a pint of that then, please.'
'Fine,' said the sanguine-cheeked, middle-aged, rose-haired proprietress.
At a table in the corner sat three local village girls. One – a blonde-haired, green-eyed gal with eyebrows like thin wisps of heaven and a gently tapering face – caught his eye. She was wearing an elegant, peach nylon dress but she looked younger than he.
She saw him scanning the corner; saw his hazel, piercing eyes and she smiled. He turned to his bitter and cupped the base of the glass with both hands.
In one movement he shrugged and stood, gesturing to the barmaid that he was to briefly leave his seat and pack. She returned with a smile and a knowing wink.
As he rose, the girl leaned forward and muttered something to her friends. It must've been along the lines of 'he's coming over', because they both rose, straightened their airy dresses and motioned towards the ladies' toilet.
He approached and gestured at the space. She shrugged, pushing out her bottom lip and lifting her hands, palms-up, in a 'what-the-hell?' expression.
He sat, supping at his bitter, and leaned back.
'What's your name?' he enquired.
'Susan - but you can call me Susie. What's yours?'
He paused for a few seconds, keeping her in suspense. She looked searchingly at him. He broke the moment: 'Henry. My name's Henry.'
'Well, it's good to meet you.'
'Are you sure?'
'Well, I guess I'll find out.'
'Susie?'
'Yeah.'
'What's a pretty young thing like you doing sitting all lonesome in a pub?'
'Well, what else is a girl to do of an evening?'
They both laughed. She tilted back her head slightly.
'So, Henry, what do you do?
'Do?'
'Yeah,' she laughed.
'Nothin'.'
'Nothin'?'
'Yeah.'
'You mean you don't do anything?'
'That's correct.'
'Well, what do you do?'
He paused for a second, jutting out his bottom jaw, raising his eyebrows and pressing together his lips into a quizzical countenance.
'Well, I travel. I'm a travelling man. I don't work.'
'No?'
'Nuh-uh. I don't believe in work; I believe in labour and recompense, but I have no calling.'
'No calling?'
'Yes. I've been to university, but my path has grown somewhat overgrown. This could be the end of the road, or merely an interruption. What do you do, Susie?'
'Me? Well, I'm at college.'
'Studying?'
'Sociology, History and Maths.'
'That's quite some line-up.'
'Thanks.'
'You like compliments?'
'Not really.'
She looked down at her side, laughed and then rose. Her mouth bore teeth like cut glass. She settled and gazed into his eyes. He sipped his drink and looked down at her half-finished gin and T.
'Care for another?'
She looked down at her glass, swirling the liquid and shaking the half-melted ice and lime in turn.
'Nah, I think I'm fine, thanks.'
'You sure?'
'Yeah, you know. I shouldn't.'
'You shouldn't?'
'Yeah.'
'Says who?'
She laughed. 'Don't be so blasé.'
'Blasé? That's quite a big word for a college student.'
'Actually, it's a short word'. She sipped at her drink and snorted, almost losing the last remaining ice cube.
'Come on. What are you having?'
'Another one of those-'
'Gin and tonics?'
'Yeah,' he mused. 'I haven't had one of those in, say... five months.'
'Well, it's a summer drink and I'm a summer girl, but the chilly November air won't stop me from glugging the odd gin.'
'Glugging? I don't think such an action befits a lady of such high esteem.'
'Really?' she enquired, in a 19th century Edwardian accent. 'Well, a-thank you, Mr Darcy.'
'Much obliged, madame.'
'Listen, I like you. Why don't we cut the crap and split.'
'Split?'
'Yeah, I've got a bottle of bourbon back home and the parents are away.'
She flicked her blonde curls from her shoulders, gesticulating to him to reply. 'What do you think?'
'Well, that's some proposal.'
'Indeed it is.'
He swigged the last of his bitter, wiping his top lip free of the sticky excess. 'Why not?'
They exited the pub. He adjusted his pack and lifted an arm invitingly. She snuggled up close and he settled an arm upon her shoulder. His skin brushed the coarse fibres of her knee-length coat. They began to walk.
Chapter 3:
He woke at 3am with a start, his head heavy from the bourbon he'd drunk earlier. The moon hung low in the sky and his brow was beetled with several large beads of sweat.
He gazed over at the girl. The sheet was drawn up to her mid-riff, revealing her shapely waist and back. The notches of her spine were bevelled startlingly against the soft, cold-defined satin of her pale, goose-fleshed skin.
Her breasts hung daintily; her hair was brushed back over one shoulder, revealing a lilliputian, gold, chain-linked necklace.
He reclined, kissing her shoulder. She turned, slowly.
'Hey.'
'Hey.'
She brushed the hairs of his chest with one hand and raised it to hush his speech-ready lips.
'How was it?'
'Sex.'
'Sex?'
'Sex is sex is sex.'
She laughed.
'You're different from most girls I've been with.'
'Different?'
'Yeah, you're that little bit younger... and that little bit tighter.'
He paused, then collapsed into laughter.
'Sorry.'
She thumped his arm and rolled atop him.
'I'll make you sorry you said that.'
'Honey, nothing you could do could possibly make me feel sorry.'
He pressed his lips against hers and slowly turned her to lay her upon her back.
Chapter 4:
In the morning, the birds chirped with vigour and the scents of her parents' many garden flowers filled his nostrils. The whirring of a steam kettle finally stirred him to life. He rose, sitting on the edge of the bed, and began to rub his eyes.
Clad in boxer shorts, he strolled into the kitchen and caressed her gown-covered shoulders.
'Morning.'
'Morning. I hope this isn't the usual method by which you obtain life's necessities.'
'No. You know, most women are content with just oral sex.'
She tapped him and giggled.
'Toast?'
'Yes, please.'
'Coffee?'
'Milky, two sugars.'
'Jam, peanut butter, Marmite?'
'Marmite? Fuck that! Jam, please.' He paused briefly. 'Hey, it's Sunday, right?'
'Yep. What do you wanna do?'
Well, ideally I'd like to do the following in the following order: breakfast, sex, pub, sex, stroll, sex, sex, sex. Maybe the sex parts are negotiable.'
'What am I to you, some floozy?'
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't worry, honey: that I am.'
He smiled at her. 'Oh, let me pour that coffee for you. Sugar?'
'One, please.'
He placed the cups upon the table. She brought over the toast.
'So, Henry, you've fucked me – wanna start discussing marriage?'
'I would do, but I'm already tethered.' He raised a hand to show his ring finger. 'Shit! I must've pawned my ring by accident.... Oh, well.'
She tilted back her head and released a gaggle of hearty laughs, settling after a few seconds to look at Henry.
'So, shall I introduce you to my friends?'
'What am I - your pet?'
'No. Not yet. But they may just find you interesting; possibly more interesting than I do.'
'That's hardly likely.'
'Correct.'
They both paused for a few seconds. Henry looked uneasy, rubbing his palms, then he proceeded.
'Listen, we haven't had a chance to talk. I really have to leave tomorrow. I've got to cover a lot of ground.'
'Well, you don't have to. What is it exactly you're aiming to do?'
'I want to walk this country – length and breadth. Then I want to walk it some more – working and reading as I go.'
'That sounds amazing.'
'Yeah. I hope it will be.'
'Is there one more space on the itinerary?' she joked.
He looked at her piercingly and then relaxed into a smile.
'I have thought of that; it's a lonely road, after all. But I have to walk it alone. If I were to invite another, my entire interpretation of events would become skewed; different. You see?'
'Kinda, but what if the second version is the better?'
'I don't think it can be. I must experience the yet-to-come with solitary eyes. If another were to walk with me I might lose track of things. Besides, you're young; pretty. You've got your entire life ahead of you. You've got college. I'm just a passing stranger. I may change you but I'm not your future; I'm not any future....' He paused. 'I'm just a moment.'
She gazed at him - half in pity; half in adoration – as he looked into his lap. She slid a hand over to his and held it.
'What is it you want to accomplish?' She squeezed his hand, urging him on.
'I don't know.'
He removed her hand from his and settled it on the table reassuringly, giving it a soft tap. He bit into his toast and raised the cup to his mouth.
'Do you want to go for a walk in a minute, Henry?'
'Why not? Do you want to go now?'
'Well, yes, but what about your breakfast?'
'Forget about it – I'll warm it later. Shall we go?'
They spent the afternoon wondering the woodland paths and cobbled streets of the small village. She nestled her head in his chest as they walked. They sat briefly on a park bench and watched the afternoon sun drift into view and then continually hide behind grey giants in the mottled winter sky. They talked. They kissed. Friends of her parents saw them and gazed with a mixture of curiousness, mild scorn, interest and envy.
He left her early the next morning. He came into her life briefly and exited with haste; a man of impetus, searching for nothing in particular; a victim of the twenty-first century – just as confused, dazed and disenfranchised as the next person, but in need of some supra-city existence. A compulsion no more and no less than finding his soul drives him on. He'll lose and gain whilst on the road. He'll make many a valuable friend and lover overnight - and lose them by the afternoons of a few days later. This is the life he's chosen. He chooses to live it with conviction. He's building towards something immense. Who knows what's around the corner?
Chapter 5:
I went to university at the tender age of eighteen in 2005; I finished in 2008 at the age of twenty-one. I bummed around for a few months. I worked at a call-centre, selling some shit-poke set-top box insurance.
'Good afternoon, Miss I've-Got-No-Fucking-Time-For-You. How are you today?'
'Go fuck myself?'
'Well, thanks for your time?'
'May I arrange a call-'
'BEEEEEEP!'
Fuck that shit. I left within three weeks. I sat around at home, feeling like killing myself. I'd never been laid. I'd never been happy. I'd always been hateful. The summer of 2008 was a good one. I found Ray LaMontagne's Till the Sun Turns Black, and I got into a little Washington State-based band called Modest Mouse.
I wanted to become a happy person; a good person. After three months of bullshittin' and smooth-talkin' people, I took a good, long look at myself in the mirror.
'Who the fuck are you, you ugly fuck?'
'What the fuck do you want with me?'
'Is this living? You fucking tell me.'
With a little preparation I suddenly knew my direction: I had no fucking direction. Maybe I was young and reckless and willfully ignorant of all things sensible, but I had to get the fuck out of there; out of that soul-devouring city. My home town wasn't all bad. Don't get me wrong. But all one sees is crowd after crowd of painted, confused faces; too many faces. Every few months, I'd look back at how I was a few months earlier – and I'd be fucking disgusted. I'd always see some pathetic cocoon writhing around trying to become a butterfly.
I'd wake up in the small hours and those faces would be on the wall – haunted and haunting. My face would be in there somewhere, too; lost within the incongruous features.
I came to a conclusion: I had to walk. People go on and on about travelling. Where? Where the fuck do you want to travel? The Far East? Why? Is that the popular locale this month? Is it one of those 100-places-to-see-before-you-die locations? Travelling isn't an activity; it's a state of mind. You move. You never stop moving. One day, you're going to die. There's only one certainty: you'll probably be horizontal when you kick the bucket.
Chapter 6:
To be continued....
The thoughts of a fed-up atheist (#2).
Note to reader:
This same post can be found in the 'April' section of my blog. I've included revisions, corrections and two additional paragraphs in this version. I hope you enjoy the piece. (If you spot any errors, please tell me.)
The thoughts of a fed-up atheist:
I'm an atheist. So fuckin' what? Big fuckin' deal. As an atheist, I'm pretty pissed off with the world of today. I try to remain quite liberal but I end up finding that the term 'liberal conservative' does have some application. I'm a deep believer in secularism and, luckily, I find myself living in quite a secular country. I'm a deep believer in science, but I'm not a humanist. I'm not a Buddhist. Nor am I a Muslim, a Sikh or a Christian. I don't believe in the Jains or Hinduism - though I do believe in their advocacy of non-violence (not that Christ wasn't a great model - it's just that Christians as a people tend to be quite war-ready; even war-hungry).
The only philospher I can relate to is Confucius, as he seems like a much more wizened version of Jesus. And, although I've never read it, I expect I'd be a rather impassioned advocate of western philosophy! Heck, I guess we all are as we're all probably writing from computers located in democratic countries, right!?
In the Britain of today we have a problem with religion. On one hand, many people are deeply humbled by, and respectful of, other people's religions, but, on the other hand, many people are also deeply wary of how politicians deal with religious issues wearing cotton mittens. Can we really afford to bend to the whims of every person's ignorance? I think not.
There are certain values that we all hold dear, but which I don't think are practised in 'religious countries'. In the Arab Emirates, women are treated like ornaments. They're made to wear their hijabs and burkas and are, in most respects, inferior and subordinate to men. In Catholic nations, contraception is frowned upon, resulting in unwanted pregnancies, the transmittance of STDs and many disenchanted youngsters being brought up into poverty. It also seems that, in the past, at least, Catholic popes have been against gay rights - as well as women's rights - and for slavery, stating that the ultimate ends are justified in that many heathen will be converted to Christianity and saved from both their sins and hell - even if those people were unaware of that religion in the first place. It was also a practise of Spanish Conquistadors to bless Amerindian children before dashing their brains out so that upon dying they wouldn't be sent to hell. Can you see how religious ends allow for a great degree of evil that any moral person would find despicable?
Aside from gay and women's rights, many Christians are against abortion - even in cases of rape or incest. Ultimately, I believe, the decision should rest with the person bearing the child. Are you a single mother? Do you live under the poverty line? Do you work two or three jobs? No? Then shut the fuck up! I find it despicable how some religious people think they can presume on other people's lives just because they feel they have the moral high ground. If you believe in such crazy notions then that's fine; just keep your damn beliefs to yourself. Ultimately, abortion isn't a great thing. It all depends on whether you believe that the spirit enters the zygote at the moment of conception. First of all, I don't believe in the word 'spirit'. Whatever 'energy' (and other psychobabble nonsense words applying to 'soul') we have is reduced to nothing upon death. Consciousness is bound up in the structure of the brain - when it's destroyed upon death so is this so-called 'spirit'. Second of all, a blastocyst is just a collection of cells with no awareness at all - it hasn't a frickin' nervous system for frick sake! Even a child has no awareness of the world upon birth - it's a completely blank and impressionable slate which learns over time and adapts to the culture in which it's born. Not that I'm advocating infanticide or anything; I believe that a child should be given the best possible start - which is why I'm an advocate of family planning, which, in itself, is paradoxically the best way to combat abortion.
A lot of evangelical and fundamentalist Christians will say that liberals are baby killers (I think that all Christians - even moderate ones - deplore abortion). Now that's just nonsense. If you want to know the real killer, look no further than the God in whom you believe. Tens of millions of miscarriages occur every year, many babies die shortly after being born and many fertilised eggs often don't gestate at all. If you believe that all of this was created by some malevolent, disturbed deity then that deity is responsible for all the suffering and pain in the world - and that includes abortions. You can vest your hopes and fears in such a deranged being if you believe he/she/it exists, but I say he/she/it can take his/her/its bad attitude and fuck off! (I am of course making an analogy so don't construe that comment to, in any way, suggest I have some vague belief in the god hypothesis.)
One further variant on that theme is what religion does to children. I'm not trying to indulge in some anti-Christianity polemic (or am I?), but, once again, I'll take a look at what Christianity does to young children. First, then, we have the burning issue of sex. Young, Christian children are indoctrinated from a young age to have a morbid fear of sex. Today, at least, we have sex education - but I don't remember learning about sex until I was ten or eleven years old. From an early age, only cavalier parents tell their young children about sex, thinking that it's only natural. This, of course, is the right attitude to take but many devout Christians think that young children can't handle the information or think it's improper and immoral to tell them of such information (or, sadly, both of these). This inspires in young children a great deal of curiousity which, over time - if untreated - can become a pathological fixation. By witholding such important information from children, we only serve to heighten their interests in the subject of sex, whilst at the same time inculcating in them immense feelings of shame and sin. Second, in the Catholic church children are discouraged from engaging in premarital sex but then they're encouraged to 'be fruitful and multiply' upon consummation. That just seems a bit of a jump from one extreme to the other. Surely, a healthy, normal sex-life should consist of knowing about the subject and being able to make one's own decisions - all the while regarding the law, of course.
It seems dangerous when such ideals threaten world stability. Religious people hold their deities dear, hoping that their gods - their Allah or Yahveh or Jehova or Shiva (maybe even their Zeus, Apollo or Odin - depending on the antiquity of their beliefs) - will act as a protector and big brother, thus guaranteeing them safety in their passages to the next life. It seems fairly selfish and ignorant to live a good life based on the maxim that one will be rewarded with eternity for living it in such and such a way.
Above all else, it's clear that these 'moral' systems have been developed over thousands of years (since the first, illiterate Jewish peasants designed a monotheistic deity in the hills of Judea some 3,500 years ago) simply to control simple people. Also, the gospels were written from between 80AD-200AD by around 500 different contributors - that leaves quite a lot of time and scope for misinterpretation and the changing of 'facts', doesn't it? For those of you who think Christ is the best moral teacher, don't forget to stone your children if they disobey you or pray to different gods from the one to whom you pray - amongst other practices.
It seems fairly obvious that uncontrolled population growth will result in instability, seeing the development of food scarcity, conflict and the spread of disease, but faith seems to give these fools hope that their interventionist gods will step in and save their all-precious bottoms. "Be fruitful and multiply," it says in Genesis. Multiply until every last fruit is vanquished, more like. Well, I don't believe that for a second. The universe doesn't work like that. We are not separate from nature but are, indubitably, a part of it. We're lucky apes who've had the good fortune to have our ancestors not die and also have our ancestors find the means to develop tools.
Yes, the origin of life is a mysterious one but I'm not a deist - nor am I even a pantheist. Just because we'd like to believe certain things doesn't make them true. And there's no reason to speculate on certain religious interpretations of creation when there's no evidence for them. To all advocates of Creationism, I say - apart from you being completely ignorant morons who know nothing of either the scientific revolution of the 1600s or scientific progress - look into a thing called Microwave Background Radiation - that should settle your confusion. Also, look into Uranium- and radioCarbon-dating; it's due to Uranium-dating that we know our planet is at least 4.5 billion years old*, and it's due to radioCarbon-dating (amongst other methods) that we know the first life arose around 3.9 billion years and has been slowly evolving from primordial bacteria-like organisms ever since. The first land-dwelling life crawled from the oceans around 500 million years ago.
Although I have a great appreciation for the world in which I live, I know this all came about by accident and that, ultimately, there is no universal purpose for our existences; we can only find our own reasons for living given time and life experience. We develop likings for certain hobbies and interests - some of which may be detrimental to the self or to society, but all of which are rewarding to pursue!
It's a much more rewarding notion that we aren't in the hands of some malevolent, cruel, big brother, but only the indifferent (both caring and uncaring) hands of nature. Although it seems that existence is pointless, we should be thankful we're here. We don't live in a perfect world as no creature is perfect; a perfect world can only develop from imperfectness, for if we were to be born into a perfect world we'd have no idea of its degree of perfectness - we'd have only the idea that life were easy, agreeable and reasonable in such a model.
Maybe one day, when we've conquered our ignorance and fears, we'll have that longed-for 'dominion' over the world. For dominion isn't the owning of temporary things, but rather the acknowledgement that we can never own such things but only be participating stewards in a grand scheme in which we have our place and in which we thrive.
The universe is what it is. The best we can do is try to understand it and not project onto it meaningless attempts at rationalising it for the sake of people; attempting to rationalise what we see with deeply irrational theism will ultimately prove to be a red herring of the highest, most destructive order. All we'll accomplish is the continued taking up of immovable, dangerous and irrational positions which will indefinitely de-stablise world order. Walk into the unknown frontiers of human evolution untapped and progress past religious dogma. Liberate your minds and liberate your tongues. Prepare a decent world for our children; a world in which they'll be taught to question everything they see; a world in which there's no fear or hatred; no ridicule or shame or sin - a world in which they're free to proceed as they please and not be either distrusting of adults or trusting to the point that they believe every half-arsed and unprovable mistruth they're taught from early childhood.
This world is all we have, and it cannot thrive when there exist various religious factions all claiming that their certain maxims and tenets are universally true and should be obeyed. Only in a world which encourages truthfulness, lack of fear and prejudice, free-thinking, scientific progress, candidness and a respectful attutide to the educating of our children can we thrive.
I long to see it and I'll work towards it. We all can, but only by being responsible for our views and not submitting unthinkingly to systems put in place by ignorant, superstitious, stupid men thousands of years ago.
Next week I'll be writing about how I hate missionaries. Good night!
Notes on the text:
*We know our planet is at least 4.5 billion years old because that's the half-life - the time taken for the mass of a radioactive isotope to decrease by half - of Uranium-238. If you'd like more information and some clarification, visit the following website: http://www.fysik.org/website/fragelada/resurser/ageofearth.pdf
Further reading suggestions:
Russell, Bertrand: Why I'm Not a Christian; The Problems of Philosophy;
Hitchens, Christopher: God is Not Great;
Harris, Sam: The End of Faith; Letter to a Christian Nation;
Dawkins, Richard: The Selfish Gene; Unweaving the Rainbow; The God Delusion;
Dennett, Daniel C.: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon; Darwin's Dangerous Idea;
Confucius: (any of his four books are insightful and brilliant, but I recommend 'The Analects', which is a collection of his sayings and proverbs).
This same post can be found in the 'April' section of my blog. I've included revisions, corrections and two additional paragraphs in this version. I hope you enjoy the piece. (If you spot any errors, please tell me.)
The thoughts of a fed-up atheist:
I'm an atheist. So fuckin' what? Big fuckin' deal. As an atheist, I'm pretty pissed off with the world of today. I try to remain quite liberal but I end up finding that the term 'liberal conservative' does have some application. I'm a deep believer in secularism and, luckily, I find myself living in quite a secular country. I'm a deep believer in science, but I'm not a humanist. I'm not a Buddhist. Nor am I a Muslim, a Sikh or a Christian. I don't believe in the Jains or Hinduism - though I do believe in their advocacy of non-violence (not that Christ wasn't a great model - it's just that Christians as a people tend to be quite war-ready; even war-hungry).
The only philospher I can relate to is Confucius, as he seems like a much more wizened version of Jesus. And, although I've never read it, I expect I'd be a rather impassioned advocate of western philosophy! Heck, I guess we all are as we're all probably writing from computers located in democratic countries, right!?
In the Britain of today we have a problem with religion. On one hand, many people are deeply humbled by, and respectful of, other people's religions, but, on the other hand, many people are also deeply wary of how politicians deal with religious issues wearing cotton mittens. Can we really afford to bend to the whims of every person's ignorance? I think not.
There are certain values that we all hold dear, but which I don't think are practised in 'religious countries'. In the Arab Emirates, women are treated like ornaments. They're made to wear their hijabs and burkas and are, in most respects, inferior and subordinate to men. In Catholic nations, contraception is frowned upon, resulting in unwanted pregnancies, the transmittance of STDs and many disenchanted youngsters being brought up into poverty. It also seems that, in the past, at least, Catholic popes have been against gay rights - as well as women's rights - and for slavery, stating that the ultimate ends are justified in that many heathen will be converted to Christianity and saved from both their sins and hell - even if those people were unaware of that religion in the first place. It was also a practise of Spanish Conquistadors to bless Amerindian children before dashing their brains out so that upon dying they wouldn't be sent to hell. Can you see how religious ends allow for a great degree of evil that any moral person would find despicable?
Aside from gay and women's rights, many Christians are against abortion - even in cases of rape or incest. Ultimately, I believe, the decision should rest with the person bearing the child. Are you a single mother? Do you live under the poverty line? Do you work two or three jobs? No? Then shut the fuck up! I find it despicable how some religious people think they can presume on other people's lives just because they feel they have the moral high ground. If you believe in such crazy notions then that's fine; just keep your damn beliefs to yourself. Ultimately, abortion isn't a great thing. It all depends on whether you believe that the spirit enters the zygote at the moment of conception. First of all, I don't believe in the word 'spirit'. Whatever 'energy' (and other psychobabble nonsense words applying to 'soul') we have is reduced to nothing upon death. Consciousness is bound up in the structure of the brain - when it's destroyed upon death so is this so-called 'spirit'. Second of all, a blastocyst is just a collection of cells with no awareness at all - it hasn't a frickin' nervous system for frick sake! Even a child has no awareness of the world upon birth - it's a completely blank and impressionable slate which learns over time and adapts to the culture in which it's born. Not that I'm advocating infanticide or anything; I believe that a child should be given the best possible start - which is why I'm an advocate of family planning, which, in itself, is paradoxically the best way to combat abortion.
A lot of evangelical and fundamentalist Christians will say that liberals are baby killers (I think that all Christians - even moderate ones - deplore abortion). Now that's just nonsense. If you want to know the real killer, look no further than the God in whom you believe. Tens of millions of miscarriages occur every year, many babies die shortly after being born and many fertilised eggs often don't gestate at all. If you believe that all of this was created by some malevolent, disturbed deity then that deity is responsible for all the suffering and pain in the world - and that includes abortions. You can vest your hopes and fears in such a deranged being if you believe he/she/it exists, but I say he/she/it can take his/her/its bad attitude and fuck off! (I am of course making an analogy so don't construe that comment to, in any way, suggest I have some vague belief in the god hypothesis.)
One further variant on that theme is what religion does to children. I'm not trying to indulge in some anti-Christianity polemic (or am I?), but, once again, I'll take a look at what Christianity does to young children. First, then, we have the burning issue of sex. Young, Christian children are indoctrinated from a young age to have a morbid fear of sex. Today, at least, we have sex education - but I don't remember learning about sex until I was ten or eleven years old. From an early age, only cavalier parents tell their young children about sex, thinking that it's only natural. This, of course, is the right attitude to take but many devout Christians think that young children can't handle the information or think it's improper and immoral to tell them of such information (or, sadly, both of these). This inspires in young children a great deal of curiousity which, over time - if untreated - can become a pathological fixation. By witholding such important information from children, we only serve to heighten their interests in the subject of sex, whilst at the same time inculcating in them immense feelings of shame and sin. Second, in the Catholic church children are discouraged from engaging in premarital sex but then they're encouraged to 'be fruitful and multiply' upon consummation. That just seems a bit of a jump from one extreme to the other. Surely, a healthy, normal sex-life should consist of knowing about the subject and being able to make one's own decisions - all the while regarding the law, of course.
It seems dangerous when such ideals threaten world stability. Religious people hold their deities dear, hoping that their gods - their Allah or Yahveh or Jehova or Shiva (maybe even their Zeus, Apollo or Odin - depending on the antiquity of their beliefs) - will act as a protector and big brother, thus guaranteeing them safety in their passages to the next life. It seems fairly selfish and ignorant to live a good life based on the maxim that one will be rewarded with eternity for living it in such and such a way.
Above all else, it's clear that these 'moral' systems have been developed over thousands of years (since the first, illiterate Jewish peasants designed a monotheistic deity in the hills of Judea some 3,500 years ago) simply to control simple people. Also, the gospels were written from between 80AD-200AD by around 500 different contributors - that leaves quite a lot of time and scope for misinterpretation and the changing of 'facts', doesn't it? For those of you who think Christ is the best moral teacher, don't forget to stone your children if they disobey you or pray to different gods from the one to whom you pray - amongst other practices.
It seems fairly obvious that uncontrolled population growth will result in instability, seeing the development of food scarcity, conflict and the spread of disease, but faith seems to give these fools hope that their interventionist gods will step in and save their all-precious bottoms. "Be fruitful and multiply," it says in Genesis. Multiply until every last fruit is vanquished, more like. Well, I don't believe that for a second. The universe doesn't work like that. We are not separate from nature but are, indubitably, a part of it. We're lucky apes who've had the good fortune to have our ancestors not die and also have our ancestors find the means to develop tools.
Yes, the origin of life is a mysterious one but I'm not a deist - nor am I even a pantheist. Just because we'd like to believe certain things doesn't make them true. And there's no reason to speculate on certain religious interpretations of creation when there's no evidence for them. To all advocates of Creationism, I say - apart from you being completely ignorant morons who know nothing of either the scientific revolution of the 1600s or scientific progress - look into a thing called Microwave Background Radiation - that should settle your confusion. Also, look into Uranium- and radioCarbon-dating; it's due to Uranium-dating that we know our planet is at least 4.5 billion years old*, and it's due to radioCarbon-dating (amongst other methods) that we know the first life arose around 3.9 billion years and has been slowly evolving from primordial bacteria-like organisms ever since. The first land-dwelling life crawled from the oceans around 500 million years ago.
Although I have a great appreciation for the world in which I live, I know this all came about by accident and that, ultimately, there is no universal purpose for our existences; we can only find our own reasons for living given time and life experience. We develop likings for certain hobbies and interests - some of which may be detrimental to the self or to society, but all of which are rewarding to pursue!
It's a much more rewarding notion that we aren't in the hands of some malevolent, cruel, big brother, but only the indifferent (both caring and uncaring) hands of nature. Although it seems that existence is pointless, we should be thankful we're here. We don't live in a perfect world as no creature is perfect; a perfect world can only develop from imperfectness, for if we were to be born into a perfect world we'd have no idea of its degree of perfectness - we'd have only the idea that life were easy, agreeable and reasonable in such a model.
Maybe one day, when we've conquered our ignorance and fears, we'll have that longed-for 'dominion' over the world. For dominion isn't the owning of temporary things, but rather the acknowledgement that we can never own such things but only be participating stewards in a grand scheme in which we have our place and in which we thrive.
The universe is what it is. The best we can do is try to understand it and not project onto it meaningless attempts at rationalising it for the sake of people; attempting to rationalise what we see with deeply irrational theism will ultimately prove to be a red herring of the highest, most destructive order. All we'll accomplish is the continued taking up of immovable, dangerous and irrational positions which will indefinitely de-stablise world order. Walk into the unknown frontiers of human evolution untapped and progress past religious dogma. Liberate your minds and liberate your tongues. Prepare a decent world for our children; a world in which they'll be taught to question everything they see; a world in which there's no fear or hatred; no ridicule or shame or sin - a world in which they're free to proceed as they please and not be either distrusting of adults or trusting to the point that they believe every half-arsed and unprovable mistruth they're taught from early childhood.
This world is all we have, and it cannot thrive when there exist various religious factions all claiming that their certain maxims and tenets are universally true and should be obeyed. Only in a world which encourages truthfulness, lack of fear and prejudice, free-thinking, scientific progress, candidness and a respectful attutide to the educating of our children can we thrive.
I long to see it and I'll work towards it. We all can, but only by being responsible for our views and not submitting unthinkingly to systems put in place by ignorant, superstitious, stupid men thousands of years ago.
Next week I'll be writing about how I hate missionaries. Good night!
Notes on the text:
*We know our planet is at least 4.5 billion years old because that's the half-life - the time taken for the mass of a radioactive isotope to decrease by half - of Uranium-238. If you'd like more information and some clarification, visit the following website: http://www.fysik.org/website/fragelada/resurser/ageofearth.pdf
Further reading suggestions:
Russell, Bertrand: Why I'm Not a Christian; The Problems of Philosophy;
Hitchens, Christopher: God is Not Great;
Harris, Sam: The End of Faith; Letter to a Christian Nation;
Dawkins, Richard: The Selfish Gene; Unweaving the Rainbow; The God Delusion;
Dennett, Daniel C.: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon; Darwin's Dangerous Idea;
Confucius: (any of his four books are insightful and brilliant, but I recommend 'The Analects', which is a collection of his sayings and proverbs).
Monday, 6 July 2009
Knowledge á la Confucius.
What is knowledge? Confucius put it simply - in The Analects - as follows:
"Knowledge is saying you know when you know, and saying you don't when you don't."
I hope you take something away from that - 'nough bullshit, people.
"Knowledge is saying you know when you know, and saying you don't when you don't."
I hope you take something away from that - 'nough bullshit, people.
George Carlin - the Ten Commandments and suicide.
These clips are taken, respectively, from Complaints and Grievances and Life is Worth Losing (2008). Enjoy them.
George Carlin - modern man.
Simply enjoy it. George died last year at the age of seventy-one. He'll be dearly missed - perhaps more so than Bill Hicks. In a time in which comedians are bumbling shit-pokes talking about goofy, corporate-approved shit, George will be severely missed. Let's just hope there are more people out there like him.
Transcript:
I’m a modern man; a man for the millennium.
Digital and smoke-free.
A diversified, multi-cultural, post-modern deconstructionist who is anatomically and ecologically incorrect.
I’ve been uplinked and downloaded; I’ve been inputted and outsourced.
I know the upside of downsizing;I know the downside of upgrading.
I’m a high-tech low-life. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker, And I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.
I’m new-wave, but I’m old-school
And my inner child is outward-bound.
I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer;
Voice-activated and bio-degradable.
I interface with my database. My database is in cyberspace.
So, I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive and - from time to time - I’m radioactive.
Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin' the wave, dodgin' the bullet and pushin' the envelope.
I’m on point, on task, on message and off drugs.
I’ve got no need for coke and speed.
I've got no urge to binge and purge.
I’m in-the-moment, on-the-edge, over-the-top and under-the-radar;
A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.
A street-wise smart bomb.
A top-gun bottom-feeder.
I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps and run victory laps.
I’m a totally ongoing big-foot, slam-dunk, rainmaker with a pro-active outreach;
A raging workaholic. A working rageaholic. Out of rehab and in denial.
I’ve got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant and a personal agenda.
You can’t shut me up. You can’t dumb me down
Because I’m tireless and I’m wireless -
I’m an alpha male on beta-blockers.
I’m a non-believer and an over-achiever;
Laid-back but fashion-forward.
Up-front, down-home, low-rent, high-maintenance;
Super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.
I’m a hands-on, foot-loose, knee-jerk head-case;
Pre-maturely post-traumatic and I’ve got a love child who sends me hate mail.
But I’m feeling, I’m caring, I’m healing, I’m sharing -
A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary care-giver.
My output is down, but my income is up.
I take a short position on the long bond and my revenue stream has its own cash-flow.
I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds
And I watch trash sports.
I’m gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.
I like rough sex. I like tough love.
I use the 'F' word in my e-mails and the software on my hard-drive is hardcore - no soft porn.
I bought a microwave oven at a mini-mall;
I bought a mini-van at a mega-store.
I eat fast-food in the slow lane.
I’m toll-free, bite-sized, ready-to-wear and I come in all sizes;
A fully-equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically-proven, scientifically-formulated medical miracle.
I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped, vacuum-packed
And I have an unlimited broadband capacity.
I’m a rude dude, but I’m the real deal;
Lean and mean. Cocked, locked and ready to rock.
Rough, tough and hard to bluff.
I take it slow; I go with the flow.
I ride with the tide. I’ve got glide in my stride.
Drivin' and movin'; sailin' and spinin';
Jivin' and groovin', wailin' and winnin'.
I don’t snooze, so I don’t lose.
I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road.
I party hardy/hearty,
And lunch time is crunch-time.
I’m hangin' in - there ain’t no doubt.
I’m hangin' tough. Over and out.
Transcript:
I’m a modern man; a man for the millennium.
Digital and smoke-free.
A diversified, multi-cultural, post-modern deconstructionist who is anatomically and ecologically incorrect.
I’ve been uplinked and downloaded; I’ve been inputted and outsourced.
I know the upside of downsizing;I know the downside of upgrading.
I’m a high-tech low-life. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker, And I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.
I’m new-wave, but I’m old-school
And my inner child is outward-bound.
I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer;
Voice-activated and bio-degradable.
I interface with my database. My database is in cyberspace.
So, I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive and - from time to time - I’m radioactive.
Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin' the wave, dodgin' the bullet and pushin' the envelope.
I’m on point, on task, on message and off drugs.
I’ve got no need for coke and speed.
I've got no urge to binge and purge.
I’m in-the-moment, on-the-edge, over-the-top and under-the-radar;
A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.
A street-wise smart bomb.
A top-gun bottom-feeder.
I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps and run victory laps.
I’m a totally ongoing big-foot, slam-dunk, rainmaker with a pro-active outreach;
A raging workaholic. A working rageaholic. Out of rehab and in denial.
I’ve got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant and a personal agenda.
You can’t shut me up. You can’t dumb me down
Because I’m tireless and I’m wireless -
I’m an alpha male on beta-blockers.
I’m a non-believer and an over-achiever;
Laid-back but fashion-forward.
Up-front, down-home, low-rent, high-maintenance;
Super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.
I’m a hands-on, foot-loose, knee-jerk head-case;
Pre-maturely post-traumatic and I’ve got a love child who sends me hate mail.
But I’m feeling, I’m caring, I’m healing, I’m sharing -
A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary care-giver.
My output is down, but my income is up.
I take a short position on the long bond and my revenue stream has its own cash-flow.
I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds
And I watch trash sports.
I’m gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.
I like rough sex. I like tough love.
I use the 'F' word in my e-mails and the software on my hard-drive is hardcore - no soft porn.
I bought a microwave oven at a mini-mall;
I bought a mini-van at a mega-store.
I eat fast-food in the slow lane.
I’m toll-free, bite-sized, ready-to-wear and I come in all sizes;
A fully-equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically-proven, scientifically-formulated medical miracle.
I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped, vacuum-packed
And I have an unlimited broadband capacity.
I’m a rude dude, but I’m the real deal;
Lean and mean. Cocked, locked and ready to rock.
Rough, tough and hard to bluff.
I take it slow; I go with the flow.
I ride with the tide. I’ve got glide in my stride.
Drivin' and movin'; sailin' and spinin';
Jivin' and groovin', wailin' and winnin'.
I don’t snooze, so I don’t lose.
I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road.
I party hardy/hearty,
And lunch time is crunch-time.
I’m hangin' in - there ain’t no doubt.
I’m hangin' tough. Over and out.
George Carlin - people are boring.
A fantastic video from Carlin's final show: 'It's Bad for Ya' (2008). Enjoy it. I regret that he never lived to November to see the inauguration of Obama. RIP, Georgie.
Sunday, 5 July 2009
George Carlin's revised version of the Ten Commandments.
1. Thou shalt be honest and faithful to the provider of thy nookie.
2. Thou shalt try really hard not to kill - unless a person prays to another invisible man than the invisible man to whom you pray.
Also, quite importantly, he provides a third and final commandment:
3. Thou shalt keep thy religion to thyself.
Goodnight! Also my god's dick is bigger than your god's.
It's not that swell being an atheist;
It's not as easy as you might think.
One gets abused by religious zealots.
Their brains are poisoned with zinc.
It's not that easy when you come.
Which god do you thank?
Thank you Jesus, Mohammed and Zeus
For letting this lovely broad spank my plank.
I don't say grace;
I'd rather thank the sun.
The sun gives me warmth and light;
My yellow, skin cancer-giving chum.
Atheists see no cause for war.
Atheists see no basis for hate.
We all just want to get along.
(And kill all the fundamentalists in our way!)
2. Thou shalt try really hard not to kill - unless a person prays to another invisible man than the invisible man to whom you pray.
Also, quite importantly, he provides a third and final commandment:
3. Thou shalt keep thy religion to thyself.
Goodnight! Also my god's dick is bigger than your god's.
It's not that swell being an atheist;
It's not as easy as you might think.
One gets abused by religious zealots.
Their brains are poisoned with zinc.
It's not that easy when you come.
Which god do you thank?
Thank you Jesus, Mohammed and Zeus
For letting this lovely broad spank my plank.
I don't say grace;
I'd rather thank the sun.
The sun gives me warmth and light;
My yellow, skin cancer-giving chum.
Atheists see no cause for war.
Atheists see no basis for hate.
We all just want to get along.
(And kill all the fundamentalists in our way!)
Saturday, 4 July 2009
I'll love you.
I'll love you even when you're in the arms of another.
I'll love you when I've given up on myself and life
Because you are all I have.
All of this shit is just an accident of my birth
But you changed that.
All that's come before could be swapped, more or less,
Without having any effect.
Meeting you was no accident.
I'll love you when the whips crack at my flesh
And the dogs feast on my marrow.
I'll love you when tongues are twisted and faces contorted.
I'll love you even when the heavens drip acid.
I regret nothing.
If love is the meaning of life
That's meaning enough.
It seems nothing has a purpose,
For there are potential purposes innumerous.
No 'man' is right.
We are all feeble, trying to gain succour through rationalisation.
But some things can't be rationalised.
So in this pitiful universe, you are all I have.
I love you.
I fear you.
I care for you.
I could never replace you.
If the world were to end tomorrow,
I'd pray that my love for you would bring it back.
In death I want to roam these shores with you for ever.
In life I want to roam these shores with you.
I'm a pitiful scrap of a person
But you make me feel like something invaluable.
You make me feel like I'm worth something.
Things have no intrinsic worth, per se;
Only worth in the eyes of people.
And that another person can see worth in me
Gives my life perspective.
I'll love you 'til my heart deems my life no longer purposeful;
'Til the Earth calls me back home.
I'll love you even when every last person has died and the universe is Reduced to an infintesimal blinking beacon.
I'll love you, no matter what happens.
I'll love you when I've given up on myself and life
Because you are all I have.
All of this shit is just an accident of my birth
But you changed that.
All that's come before could be swapped, more or less,
Without having any effect.
Meeting you was no accident.
I'll love you when the whips crack at my flesh
And the dogs feast on my marrow.
I'll love you when tongues are twisted and faces contorted.
I'll love you even when the heavens drip acid.
I regret nothing.
If love is the meaning of life
That's meaning enough.
It seems nothing has a purpose,
For there are potential purposes innumerous.
No 'man' is right.
We are all feeble, trying to gain succour through rationalisation.
But some things can't be rationalised.
So in this pitiful universe, you are all I have.
I love you.
I fear you.
I care for you.
I could never replace you.
If the world were to end tomorrow,
I'd pray that my love for you would bring it back.
In death I want to roam these shores with you for ever.
In life I want to roam these shores with you.
I'm a pitiful scrap of a person
But you make me feel like something invaluable.
You make me feel like I'm worth something.
Things have no intrinsic worth, per se;
Only worth in the eyes of people.
And that another person can see worth in me
Gives my life perspective.
I'll love you 'til my heart deems my life no longer purposeful;
'Til the Earth calls me back home.
I'll love you even when every last person has died and the universe is Reduced to an infintesimal blinking beacon.
I'll love you, no matter what happens.
TNT.
So, it's a little late in the day now (the day being Monday) but the TNT bargain never came to fruition. I spent four days up in Earl's Court working at the magazine. I was promised an article and the editor deliberated on the inclusion of a feature. NOTHING was published. Nothing. I spent over £100 on that fucking train ticket and nothing came of it. Well, at least I've learned a few things:
1. Any experience is valuable;
2. Don't ever fuckin' work for TNT magazine again (or any shambolic, cheery, middle-of-the-road publications reaching out to a happy-go-lucky, young audience - in tones that are, frankly, condescending).
Ciao, folks. I'll post something of interest later - hopefully.
1. Any experience is valuable;
2. Don't ever fuckin' work for TNT magazine again (or any shambolic, cheery, middle-of-the-road publications reaching out to a happy-go-lucky, young audience - in tones that are, frankly, condescending).
Ciao, folks. I'll post something of interest later - hopefully.
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