I spent a magical afternoon here a few days ago. Magical because it is always great drinking in the afternoon during a week day. One gains a sense of freedom, no matter how often one is reminded that such escape is only temporary. It was magical because below street level there is hidden a treasure trove of world beers to be tasted and sampled.
It was magical because there works here an ozzy barmaid who is utterly beautiful and appeared to go by the name of Viper. Her name was magical, especially for an Australian but it was too good to be true..., when her shift ended the next barmaid also had the name of Viper on the reciept. No matter, she was helpful and friendly without being overbearing. She was also charming, partly because she had a very shy smile for someone so physically striking.
There was an array of Pizza. The Wild Boar and the Duck was particularly tastey. This was perfect beer food to soak up the alcohol and prepare for another round.
This is the type of place a great Russian writer might while away the daylight hours, dreaming of the next masterpeice while observing all around him. This is the kind of place cut away from throngs of everyday life. This was a place for busy contemplation.
It was snowing outside. Not that one needed an excuse to remain, tucked away undergrond below the streets in the centre of Glasgow. One could could easily remain here for years without getting bored. It was also a place full of forgetfulness. It was a place to forget the trival issues of everyday concerns.
I will remember to return one day.
Friday, 26 February 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
St. Valentine's Day Blues
It is only right that single people respect this day as a special day - a day for couples to make a point in reminding each other of their love.
One could go on for thousands of words writing about how crass and commercial this day has become. The lovely dovey marketing of the marketeers, is like a waiter who has a wind problem at an intimate dinner date. There will always be those who seek a profit in what is beautiful.
This day can be difficult for single people though. For those whose love has passed away, betrayed them or simply been unable to love back, it can be heartbreaking. One can be reminded constantly about what is absent. The ultimate sin is for 'good intentioned' couples to try and give their single friends advice, as if they possessed some higher understanding of the Platonic sun.
The truth is that there is no secret formula. It is only possible to be connected to someone, when you recognize what is special and individual about them. Then there comes acceptance, which is really only the by-product of such a connection.
Still, for many single people this day can pass like any other. Individuals can be content in their own company and do not always crave company. Such singletons are blessed.
One could go on for thousands of words writing about how crass and commercial this day has become. The lovely dovey marketing of the marketeers, is like a waiter who has a wind problem at an intimate dinner date. There will always be those who seek a profit in what is beautiful.
This day can be difficult for single people though. For those whose love has passed away, betrayed them or simply been unable to love back, it can be heartbreaking. One can be reminded constantly about what is absent. The ultimate sin is for 'good intentioned' couples to try and give their single friends advice, as if they possessed some higher understanding of the Platonic sun.
The truth is that there is no secret formula. It is only possible to be connected to someone, when you recognize what is special and individual about them. Then there comes acceptance, which is really only the by-product of such a connection.
Still, for many single people this day can pass like any other. Individuals can be content in their own company and do not always crave company. Such singletons are blessed.
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
The Beauty of A.
I know a woman. She is beautiful. She likes to be reminded that she is beautiful. And by aknowledging her beauty, it is as if there is a connection, a sacred tie between her and I.
In her absence, I cannot comment on her beauty. Or if I do, by writing words down and trying to make things clear, I am only really commenting on my memory. I cannot smell her scent or taste the flavours of her company. The light that travelled between us, travelled light years ago.
In my absence, she has found herself a man. He can be with her and remind her of her beauty. There is no jealousy, just a joy tinged with sadness - for I know she can now be happy.
On the day that my mother left my father, I am still thinking of her.
In her absence, I cannot comment on her beauty. Or if I do, by writing words down and trying to make things clear, I am only really commenting on my memory. I cannot smell her scent or taste the flavours of her company. The light that travelled between us, travelled light years ago.
In my absence, she has found herself a man. He can be with her and remind her of her beauty. There is no jealousy, just a joy tinged with sadness - for I know she can now be happy.
On the day that my mother left my father, I am still thinking of her.
Friday, 22 January 2010
Charles Bukowski: Women
So the obsession continues. I read another novel by Charles Bukowski. The book starts by proclaiming that as a fifty year old, the narrator had not been laid in four years. What then follows is a parade of graphic descriptions of various encounters with women.
There is lots of humour contained within this. The absurdity of a fat ugly old man pulling women thirty years younger is highly entertaining. What it does do, however, is question the relationship between men and various women. It also focuses upon the priorities that these women hold when conducting their lives.
Bukowski is too much of an artist to come up with a generalized answer but something has changed since he became a named author.
Some women seem to be attracted to his reputation as a womanizer. Others like his unpredictability and are bored by the standards of the in-crowd. Others still, who do not know of his reputation, are discovered to be prostitutes plying their trade.
As the work comes to an end, boredom starts to fester. Some very telling comments are then made. He says that men like lots of women as a compensation for being unable to find the one good woman. He also tries to discuss his predicament with various women who he has slept with- but with utter failure. When he says that he did not understand what love was because of his upbringing, his intimate friends fly away, unable to connect on an emotional level.
There is a promise at the end of the novel that he might have found the one good woman; a women who held out and did not sleep with him straight away. He cannot be sure. He refuses the advances of a nineteen year old who 'wants to discuss her writing' - but he knows that he has only been successful this once.
The novel ends with a stray cat moving in. Animals, he maintains, know intuitively who the good guys are.
There is lots of humour contained within this. The absurdity of a fat ugly old man pulling women thirty years younger is highly entertaining. What it does do, however, is question the relationship between men and various women. It also focuses upon the priorities that these women hold when conducting their lives.
Bukowski is too much of an artist to come up with a generalized answer but something has changed since he became a named author.
Some women seem to be attracted to his reputation as a womanizer. Others like his unpredictability and are bored by the standards of the in-crowd. Others still, who do not know of his reputation, are discovered to be prostitutes plying their trade.
As the work comes to an end, boredom starts to fester. Some very telling comments are then made. He says that men like lots of women as a compensation for being unable to find the one good woman. He also tries to discuss his predicament with various women who he has slept with- but with utter failure. When he says that he did not understand what love was because of his upbringing, his intimate friends fly away, unable to connect on an emotional level.
There is a promise at the end of the novel that he might have found the one good woman; a women who held out and did not sleep with him straight away. He cannot be sure. He refuses the advances of a nineteen year old who 'wants to discuss her writing' - but he knows that he has only been successful this once.
The novel ends with a stray cat moving in. Animals, he maintains, know intuitively who the good guys are.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Going to the baths.
When I was about five or six, my grandfather would bring me to 'the baths' every week. Baths was my grandfather's way of referring to the swimming pool. This reference can help unload a whole history of personal hygiene.
It was the early eighties. My maternal grandparents still lived in a house without a bathroom in a Protestant working class district of Belfast. I still remember clearly the tin bath that hung on the wall out in the yard, where the toilet was also located. Years later, when I read descriptions of the living conditions in George Orwell's 'Road To Wigan Pier', my mind would be cast back to this house, giving my imagination leverage.
It is easy to imagine the discomfort and cold in the early hours of a December morning, lying in bed needing to use the toilet. Would one need to go bad to enough to brave the cold in the rain or snow, with the wind cutting through your night time attire?
The effort of filling and topping up the tin bath in front of a blazing fire, would take so much effort and time, that it was profitable for the city council to have bathing locations, that later become swimming pools.
I am only 34 - still I remember such conditions still existing in my grandparents' household. It is amazing how much more comfort we live in today compared with two generations ago.
Personal hygiene habits have also changed greatly. It is a matter of course now to shower every morning as a minimum. Back then, it would have been a case of filling up a basin and washing from this most days. Having a bath was a treat!
Going to the swimming pool today, I was reminded of all this. It is amazing how quickly our standards have changed. We take take so much so granted now, such as indoor bathrooms!
It was the early eighties. My maternal grandparents still lived in a house without a bathroom in a Protestant working class district of Belfast. I still remember clearly the tin bath that hung on the wall out in the yard, where the toilet was also located. Years later, when I read descriptions of the living conditions in George Orwell's 'Road To Wigan Pier', my mind would be cast back to this house, giving my imagination leverage.
It is easy to imagine the discomfort and cold in the early hours of a December morning, lying in bed needing to use the toilet. Would one need to go bad to enough to brave the cold in the rain or snow, with the wind cutting through your night time attire?
The effort of filling and topping up the tin bath in front of a blazing fire, would take so much effort and time, that it was profitable for the city council to have bathing locations, that later become swimming pools.
I am only 34 - still I remember such conditions still existing in my grandparents' household. It is amazing how much more comfort we live in today compared with two generations ago.
Personal hygiene habits have also changed greatly. It is a matter of course now to shower every morning as a minimum. Back then, it would have been a case of filling up a basin and washing from this most days. Having a bath was a treat!
Going to the swimming pool today, I was reminded of all this. It is amazing how quickly our standards have changed. We take take so much so granted now, such as indoor bathrooms!
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Lyrics: All Along The Watchtower
'All Along The Watchtower' was written and originally performed by Bob Dylan but more familiar versions are those by Jimi Hendrix and U2. I first heard the U2 version when I was fifteen years old. I loved the song but the lyrics always mystified me. They are sparse and have very little detail..., to the extent that I thought that there must be verses missing.
Roll on nineteen years. I am back from a holiday in Tenerife; a holiday that has really challenged the way I live my life and think about the world.
One of the things I lacked on Holiday was access to my music collection, so on Sunday I had an opportunity to put on some music and get a good dose. There is little I like more than laying back on my bed, blasting some music and pondering the meaning of life. I hadn't listened to Hendrix in a while and thought this might do the trick.
When Hendrix's version of 'All Along The Watchtower' came on, the experiences I had on holiday started to click with the lyrics and it all started to make sense.
First, I met lots of intelligent people working out there who did not want to be stuck back home in the rat race. This may surprise some people, for the common image of typical Spanish holiday resort is of idiots abroad who want nothing more than to drink and fornicate. While this element did exist, some people have to be given more credit.
Second, since I originally graduated back in 2000, I have been in two minds. Sometimes I wanted the security of a job. At other times, especially when things were really bad - I wanted to escape this. I have been to London (which is still highly recommended), went back to university to study for a MA and struggled to find a graduate level job. What I discovered is that none of this really matters. I have been half fooling myself for far too long.
The first verse hits the spot well:
"There must be somewhere out here, said the joker to the thief.
There is too much confusion. I can't get no relief.
Businessman they drink my wine. Ploughman dig my earth.
And all along the line, no one knows what it is worth."
This sums up so much how I have been feeling. There is the confusion and lack of direction, the disorientation and the loss of real value. The archetypical characters of the joker and the thief are those who live on the outside of society and so can look in with a critical eye.
Then the second verse:
"No need to get excited. The thief he kindly spoke.
There are many among us, who feel that life is but a joke.
but you and I we've been through that.
And that is not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now.
The hour is getting late."
This verse is utterly brilliant. These two characters you would not normally expect to have access to 'truth' are those of the joker and the thief. The joker is someone who normally challenges everyday reality and most would assume that he tells an untruth to amuse 'normal' people. When really, the joker is in earnest - he does not see that life is a joke. The thief transgresses normal reality by not adhering to the normal values of society. This transgression brings into question the 'laws of the land.'
Then finally the conclusion:
"All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants too.
Outside in the cold distance, a wildcat did growl,
two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl."
The final insight: the societal values that most of us hold dear also preserve vested interests. The notion of women coming and going may relate in part of Celine's 'Journey To The End of The Night', where a similar scene is painted. (I have read somewhere that Dylan was a big fan.)
AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!! What have I been doing with my life? Time to push on with the book and get it finished in the next two weeks. Whether it gets published or not..., it is time to give myself more time.
Roll on nineteen years. I am back from a holiday in Tenerife; a holiday that has really challenged the way I live my life and think about the world.
One of the things I lacked on Holiday was access to my music collection, so on Sunday I had an opportunity to put on some music and get a good dose. There is little I like more than laying back on my bed, blasting some music and pondering the meaning of life. I hadn't listened to Hendrix in a while and thought this might do the trick.
When Hendrix's version of 'All Along The Watchtower' came on, the experiences I had on holiday started to click with the lyrics and it all started to make sense.
First, I met lots of intelligent people working out there who did not want to be stuck back home in the rat race. This may surprise some people, for the common image of typical Spanish holiday resort is of idiots abroad who want nothing more than to drink and fornicate. While this element did exist, some people have to be given more credit.
Second, since I originally graduated back in 2000, I have been in two minds. Sometimes I wanted the security of a job. At other times, especially when things were really bad - I wanted to escape this. I have been to London (which is still highly recommended), went back to university to study for a MA and struggled to find a graduate level job. What I discovered is that none of this really matters. I have been half fooling myself for far too long.
The first verse hits the spot well:
"There must be somewhere out here, said the joker to the thief.
There is too much confusion. I can't get no relief.
Businessman they drink my wine. Ploughman dig my earth.
And all along the line, no one knows what it is worth."
This sums up so much how I have been feeling. There is the confusion and lack of direction, the disorientation and the loss of real value. The archetypical characters of the joker and the thief are those who live on the outside of society and so can look in with a critical eye.
Then the second verse:
"No need to get excited. The thief he kindly spoke.
There are many among us, who feel that life is but a joke.
but you and I we've been through that.
And that is not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now.
The hour is getting late."
This verse is utterly brilliant. These two characters you would not normally expect to have access to 'truth' are those of the joker and the thief. The joker is someone who normally challenges everyday reality and most would assume that he tells an untruth to amuse 'normal' people. When really, the joker is in earnest - he does not see that life is a joke. The thief transgresses normal reality by not adhering to the normal values of society. This transgression brings into question the 'laws of the land.'
Then finally the conclusion:
"All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants too.
Outside in the cold distance, a wildcat did growl,
two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl."
The final insight: the societal values that most of us hold dear also preserve vested interests. The notion of women coming and going may relate in part of Celine's 'Journey To The End of The Night', where a similar scene is painted. (I have read somewhere that Dylan was a big fan.)
AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!! What have I been doing with my life? Time to push on with the book and get it finished in the next two weeks. Whether it gets published or not..., it is time to give myself more time.
Monday, 26 October 2009
PR's in hell.
Public relations in hell is a tough job but it helps if you are a good looking and chatty individual who knows how to identify the buying signals. Hell looks something like Veronica's strip in Tenerife, where an army of people want to bring you into bars, strip joints and lighten your wallet by selling other tat.
This is naked capitalism, stripped of the 'respectable' sales of high street brands and corporate 'cleanliness'. There are presumably aspects of the business here that are illegal and such illegality helps reinforce the supposed moral high ground of the established order.
The difference, however, is not as great as it seems. When the first taxes were introduced a few thousand years ago, this would have seemed like nothing more than a protection racket. Yet we accept unquestionably the divine right of national governments to impose taxes to pay for hospitals, roads, a police service and standing army. This racket certainly has it's benefits but the activity has become naturalized. The question mark has vanished.
Whether such activity is deemed legal or illegal, does not get beyond the issue of how people live off the activities of each other. People will sell to each other the essentials of life, such as water and food. This is rarely gifted. People will also play on each other affections. As any good sales person will know, it is easier to sell to someone if that person actually likes you - no matter what the product being sold is.
And of course - we all need to make a living. The blame should not always be placed on the shoulders of individuals. Narratives of legality make us focus on the actions of particular individuals and sometimes people do have to be brought to account. Still, the over all framework of how we live with each other is generally ignored.
Call me an idealist. The one thing that I yearn for in life is to find evidence of unconditional love. This I would describe as a gift given freely without expectation of any return.
This is naked capitalism, stripped of the 'respectable' sales of high street brands and corporate 'cleanliness'. There are presumably aspects of the business here that are illegal and such illegality helps reinforce the supposed moral high ground of the established order.
The difference, however, is not as great as it seems. When the first taxes were introduced a few thousand years ago, this would have seemed like nothing more than a protection racket. Yet we accept unquestionably the divine right of national governments to impose taxes to pay for hospitals, roads, a police service and standing army. This racket certainly has it's benefits but the activity has become naturalized. The question mark has vanished.
Whether such activity is deemed legal or illegal, does not get beyond the issue of how people live off the activities of each other. People will sell to each other the essentials of life, such as water and food. This is rarely gifted. People will also play on each other affections. As any good sales person will know, it is easier to sell to someone if that person actually likes you - no matter what the product being sold is.
And of course - we all need to make a living. The blame should not always be placed on the shoulders of individuals. Narratives of legality make us focus on the actions of particular individuals and sometimes people do have to be brought to account. Still, the over all framework of how we live with each other is generally ignored.
Call me an idealist. The one thing that I yearn for in life is to find evidence of unconditional love. This I would describe as a gift given freely without expectation of any return.
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